


Bitter

by Rebekas



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (no really I mean it), Alternate Universe, Bill Cipher Being Bill Cipher, Bill Cipher is a Jerk, Creepy Bill Cipher, Dark, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Human Bill Cipher, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insanity, M/M, Minor Wendy Corduroy/Dipper Pines, Obsessive Behavior, Pedophilia, Possessive Behavior, Statutory Rape, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Threats of Violence, Triangle Bill Cipher, Yandere Bill Cipher, everyone (else) dies, everyone dies, okay 'everyone dies' is not entirely accurate, read the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebekas/pseuds/Rebekas
Summary: Dipper Pines was a curious child, as far as curious children could go.At three, he had discovered what monsters were; at five, he started his first journal, documenting the oddities of everyday life and scribbling solutions to problems on the margins of paper; at eight, he regularly explored caves and forests alike, walking through them slowly and taking notes on whatever he could find, whether it be inscribed on walls or written hastily in worn down and ancient textbooks.At age twelve, Dipper Pines met Bill Cipher.Too bad he didn’t realize that the demon’s invitation for friendship extended far beyond that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [monthly updates]
> 
> Well, here I go. Back again with another fanfic that will most certainly disturb you and cause life-long trauma. Nah, I'm just kidding. It won't be that bad. But seriously: viewer discretion is advice. It get's dark. _Really_ dark.
> 
> This is an AU in which Dipper never found the journals, and his first encounter with Bill happened randomly in the woods. As in, this is still Mabel and his first time staying with Stan in Gravity Falls, except with a few minor changes.

Night fell, and Gravity Falls became, as it were, a different place entirely.

The large pine trees that surrounded the Mystery Shack quickly turned foreboding, no longer bathed in sunlight. The creatures, woodland or other, chirped and squeaked and hummed, the occasional sounds of hooves digging into rich soil echoing throughout the forest. A branch broke, a twig snapped, anything that indicated something remotely living was presumed to be an act of malicious intent.

On night like those, Dipper Pines often found himself lying awake at night, staring blankly at the wall and hoping the sudden waves of fear would pass.

It was strange, after all, that one such as he would experience something like fear as nature made its presence known around him. Dipper was never one to be fearful of the unknown; for half of his life, he had been exploring and snooping around in places he knew all too well he was not supposed to be in (in part, because Mabel’s adventurous influence was no longer minor enough for him to ignore it entirely). Whether it be the forest, or the city, or the damp and dark caves that lay in the most secluded corners of Gravity Falls, Dipper would be on it in an instant, journal in hand and ready to write down whatever interesting tidbits of information he could find.

So it was unusual, to say the least: why anxiety and nervousness clouded his head and put spots in his vision, why he was imagining that the stained-red-glass triangle in the attic was watching him whenever he went up for a brief moment of solitude.

Shaking and shivering in bed was Dipper Pines. As if a harbinger of doom, a single, black crow landed on the window sill, meeting Dipper’s questioning gaze stolidly. 

He clenched his hand into a fist, biting his lip. This was not him. 

Dipper needed to get over his fear of what lie just beyond the treeline at night. And who better to look to than advice than Grunkle Stan? The old man would probably grin and say, “ _the only way to face your fears is to take them head on. Luckily enough for me, I’ve always been a man of the fist, which makes it plenty easier to deal with the things I don’t like. Just give em’ a whack to the face and you’ll be feeling better than ever, kid!_ ” If only he had known Dipper was referring to the creatures that lurked in the forest, and not the average school bullies.

“Head on,” Dipper whispered, quietly enough so that Mabel wouldn’t be roused from her slumber. He flinched as the crow squawked and then flew away, disappearing into the expanse of forest that was blanketed by the cool night sky. “I have to face my fears head on.”

His gaze eventually landed on his backpack, precariously placed by the door in case the situation ever arose where he needed it and was in a hurry.

Dipper gulped, and clawed at the sheets, basking in their warmth for one final moment before making up his mind on where he would be headed.

And then he was pushing them away, standing up on shaky legs before he had the chance to regret his decision.

He carefully tiptoed away from his bed, making a conscious effort not to step on the floorboards that he knew would creak. No matter how determined Dipper was to solve this problem of his, the last thing he’d want was to drag his sister into it unnecessarily. He knew Mabel would want to tag along with him, always worried about her brother getting lost in the woods and dying from starvation or cold. Ironically enough, she had always been more concerned about Dipper’s own health than him when it came to his expeditions. It was a shame that he couldn’t ask for her assistance in this. The comforting presence of his sister would ease any and all tension when he took his first steps into the darkness that awaited in the forest.

But no. This was a task meant for Dipper and Dipper alone. If he couldn’t handle a simple walk in the woods, then how could he handle real-life monster hunting?

With an air of finality, he gripped his bag tight in his hand, shoved his journal in, and left the room without sparing a second glance at Mabel’s peacefully sleeping form.

In his haste, and also in a desperate bid to avoid being caught by Grunkle Stan, Dipper bolted down the stairs, hoping that if any of the Shack’s residents heard they would assume it was just the creaking of an old house. Fortunately enough, upon reaching the bottom and holding his breath for far longer than needed, there was not even a bump in the night to signify that someone had noticed his escape attempt.

Dipper smiled sheepishly, and promised to himself that he would be on his best behaviour for the next couple of weeks to make up for this incident, regardless of whether or not anyone actually knew he had done something wrong.

Newfound confidence in his bones, Dipper strode along the wooden floor of the Mystery Shack, heartbeat thudding loud and clear in his ears.

It seemed (though he was partially inclined to blame it on the eeriness of night) like every single sound he made, no matter how small, would be heard. Realistically, he knew that it was untrue, but the moonlight that poured through the window lit up his nerves, making him jitter and jump each time he took a step that he deemed to be too loud.

And then, finally, his pale hand gripped the door knob. Dipper didn’t want to look back; he knew that if he did… if he did, he would want to run back upstairs to his room, and sleep comfortably next to Mabel. Their shared space was a safe haven. 

But doing that would never change anything. He could never fix his problems by hiding from them. The only way any progress could be made was by doing something. Because if he did nothing, then he wouldn’t even be able to say he tried.

Dipper glanced back, biting his lip slightly. “I have to face my fears head on,” he whispered once more, before twisting the golden knob, which would lead him to the outside world.

Cool air; cold, chilly air. The frost nipped at his nose, causing a red blush to spread across his face. His fingers felt almost numb. Hesitation gripped him and latched on as soon as a powerful wind almost knocked him off of his feet. No, he told himself, I refuse to give up now.

Dipper Pines would not be stopped by a temperature drop of a few degrees; he came prepared, after all.

Inside of his bag, hidden under several worn journals, was a navy blue pea coat that he had shoved in for the cold fall season. Dipper made sure to be ready, no matter what the circumstance, and like hell he would yield because of a few minutes of bitter cold. His hand reached down into the bag again, grasping around momentarily before clutching its prize.

A scarf. Simple and plain. Dipper quickly wrapped it around his own neck, smiling slightly when it helped to alleviate the bite of cold. His beloved hat, of course. And then, after another brief moment of fishing, a flashlight; he clicked it on, watching as it bathed the surrounding areas in an obnoxious yellow light.

Now, it was time to do what he had intended in going out there.

Dipper’s feet thudded against the ground, leaves crunching whenever his soles made contact. He looked around, but despite his earlier confidence, paranoia crept its way into his heart.

His eyes flitted around nervously, thoroughly inspecting every branch or shadow that looked out of place. On one side, it seemed like there was a dark figure, skirting in the corners of his peripheral vision. On another side, the slightest rustling of a bush startled him to the point where he jumped up from surprise. If possible, the iron grip he had on his flashlight increased even more. 

Dipper gulped, and then shook his head. His mind playing tricks on him. Nothing more, nothing less. There was no evil entity stalking him, waiting for him to slip up so it could devour its prey. In Gravity Falls, everything was either weird or friendly. Normally both. Any lingering sense of dread could have only been a product of his own imagination.

Because Gravity Falls was a happy place, and in happy places, there was no such thing as evil.

So he kept walking.

If he had the ability, he would have leaped at the opportunity to document his findings in his notebooks. Unfortunately, with one of his hands preoccupied, that eliminated any possibility of scribbling down memos. But there were just so many things in the forest; so many new, undiscovered things.

Odd looking plants, out-of-place lights, trees that oak morphed into faces when he past. Unsettling yes (not even Dipper could deny that), but interesting. The strangeness of the town was both magnificent and horrifying at the same time, yet one would never find themselves wanting to look away. A freak show.

However, there was one way he could manage to log his adventure (though, admittedly, he did feel ashamed for getting a bit off track. The whole purpose of this exposition of his was to face his fear of the unknown, not to hastily scratch down notes like a desperate high school student). His eyes landed on a relatively harmless-looking tree. Maybe he could sit for a while.

Casually, Dipper dropped his bag next to the tree and sat down, leaning his back against its bark. It did slightly scratch up his coat, but so did the dozens of low hanging branches that he had to push out of the way in order to get there.

Soon thereafter, he grabbed his journal, a pen, and found peace within the rhythmic scratching of the utensil. The fearful Dipper Pines was gone now; when he became enthralled in his writings there was no stopping him. 

There was something so magnificent, so glorious, in the feeling of documenting his work. Dipper was not only immortalizing himself, but also the various creatures he had found in the forest. He was giving them life on the pages, doodling and sketching out what they had looked like. At the thought, he smiled. It did not matter whether the person that had stumbled upon the journal knew it was him; regardless, they would know what he did. And that alone could make Dipper content with the loneliness of the task.

However, he very quickly found himself distracted by the sound of rustling from the bushes. It had been easy enough to ignore earlier, but now it felt like too much of an oddity to brush of as the wind. He peered up cautiously from his notes, pen clutched tightly in hand, holding up a flashlight with the other. The beam of the light ran over the trees, and then into the bushes, only to see nothing. Dipper narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Foliage didn’t move by itself.

Hesitantly, he stood up, wary about moving around in the forest, moreso now because of his amped up paranoia. “Face my fears,” he muttered under his breath, tucking his journal underneath his arm. This was a terrible idea. Dipper would have aborted the mission a while ago if he hadn’t realized this importance of making observations late at night. He knew himself firsthand that things tended to be more interesting when the moon made its way into the sky, but unfortunately he was never granted the opportunity to get it all down on paper. Too distracted by running, you see.

But as of the moment running seemed like the most sane and safe way to get out of this mess. What harm could come from a good old jog in the woods at night?

A howl resounded from behind him, and then another from his front.

Well, there was definitely that, for one.

It seemed as though the gods were being particularly cruel to Dipper that night, and he wasn’t even given a choice in whether or not to flee before whatever monstrosity had been cast upon him was nipping at his heels.

Dipper darted through the forest, backpack now long forgotten back at the oak tree he had used as a resting spot. In one hand, he was carrying a flashlight, trying his best to make it illuminate his pathway; in the other hand was his journal, feeling heavier than usual and seeming to exhaust him more with every hurried step away from his pursuers.

His pursuers which seemed to have teeth, and claws, and glowing yellow eyes. Dipper probably would have been amazed were he not running for his life.

And so the chase continued; Dipper ran, the creatures followed. He tripped over a protruding root, and they gained on him. Soon enough, fatigue creeped into his veins and caused desperate gasps of breath to leave his lips. A sense of dread filled him to his very core. He wanted to stop, but that met his inevitable death. There was not a doubt in his mind that he would be killed and devoured by the things chasing after him. Which left three options: keep running and hope for the best, engage in combat, or hide and hope that they didn’t find him.

One wasn’t turning out that well for him, seeing as he was near hyperventilating from the physical stress of overexertion. Two was completely out of the question, being that the only object he was capable of using and that could remotely be considered a weapon was now lying, stranded, on the forest floor. 

So three it was.

Hiding wasn’t ideal, per say, but Dipper was running out of options and the constant stream of howls and growls behind him didn’t boost his moral one bit. All what he had to do was find a little crawl space, where the creatures couldn’t reach him, and would hopefully grow bored and lose interest as time went on. The only problem was finding something like that itself.

Unfortunately, there didn’t appear to be any areas that he could fit in that the monsters treading close behind him couldn’t. It was all either caves, or small rock ledges that served as small canopies over the ground.

And that’s when he saw it—in the distance. There was a hole in the rock, deep enough so that his pursuers claws couldn’t reach him, and narrow enough so that they couldn’t follow him in. It made him want to sigh in relief, but he knew the battle was not yet over. This was merely the final stretch.

Dipper sped up significantly in pace, and gave his best effort at avoiding the beasts that lingered behind him. Before he knew it, he had reached his destination, and with a leap towards the hole, he had roughly slid in. There was a sharp pain in his arm and leg, and Dipper barely had time to recognize that he had been cut before he was falling into empty space.

He let out a strangled cry of surprise, but was cut off mid screech by his back meeting the hard stone floor. That was probably a concussion, added onto the other injuries. Deliriously, he reached behind him to press a gentle touch against his scalp. When he withdrew, there was blood, running down his fingers and dropping onto the ground with little splatting sounds. Dipper groaned in both discomfort and realization. A cave, he had fallen into a cave.

Then, his eyes shot open, and he desperately looked around on the ground, eyes straining to pick up anything against the black of the room. The flashlight shone dimly against one of the walls, by some miracle managing to survive the fall, and Dipper had half the mind to grab it and flash it around the room in a bid to locate his journal.

There it was, lying on the ground, having been unscathed by the fall; with a shaky hand, he picked it up, and shone the light on the cave walls instead. 

What he saw was in equal measures horrifying and mystifying. 

Strange symbols decorated every bare inch of surface available on the stone of the wall. Piecing it all together, it seemed to be telling a story. Triangle imagery, people bowing in what appeared to reverence, something that looked like magic. A god, perhaps? That was just about the only logical conclusion that Dipper could draw from the situation. An ancient group of people came together and expressed their admiration for a primordial deity through art and drawings on the walls. Clever, really. They were immortalizing what they wanted to hold dear; just like Dipper.

But the drawings weren’t what was intriguing him the most. It was the symbols that had been precariously carved into the walls, on the edges of the other drawings. It was almost as if these were written to explain or give context to what was being expressed in the pictures. Like someone was telling a tale, but not through the familiar book binds and paper. This was ancient.

Dipper ran his fingers over the carvings, looking at them with wonder and curiosity. He knew he should have been paying attention to the fact that he was bleeding out from several places, but what was in front of him was far too marvelous to simply ignore. 

Almost instinctively, he reached for his pen, and—gone. One of the many items that had been left on the forest floor in his haste to escape.

Frowning, he looked backed up at the symbols. They were so tightly packed on the wall that it almost appeared like they were one extended jagged line. It was confusing, and very hard to process, but somehow it felt like he had seen them before. 

Lying the journal on the ground, and pointing the beam of his flashlight at the pages, Dipper began to flip through the countless notes and drawings that littered the inside. For a while, creatures, monsters, and particularly violent fauna were all what he could see. Though he did not regret documenting everything he had found, at the moment he could not be more agitated at his tendency to fill all of the pages with pointless dribble. 

Then, his eyes caught something; there, in the corner of his article about gnomes, was a cipher key. Dipper didn’t know why it was in that spot, or what relation it had with gnomes, but he distantly recalled finding a large book in the town library and writing down whatever codes he could find. Apparently, he figured he would have remembered it best if he placed it there.

And so he glanced back up at the hieroglyphs on the wall. A few words were easily recognizable, not terribly hard to translate. He saw ‘God’ a lot in particular, and his earlier suspicions were confirmed: this was some sort of cult or religious following. What they had been worshiping was anyone’s guess.

Dipper bit his lip, realizing that he had no way to document this. His pen had disappeared, lost in the woods; his phone had been left at home. Worst of all, if he ever managed to get out of the cave, he might not be able to find his way back, meaning that all of this information could be lost. Lost. That’s right, Dipper Pines was lost, and under serious threat. Whatever sorts of beasts that had chased after him were still there, growling from the entrance to the cave. They either couldn’t fit, or were too scared to enter the cave. Dipper found some amount of solace in thinking that it was because they couldn’t fit. The idea of those things being afraid was unpleasant, to say the least.

But it was easy enough to push that thought out of his mind, and pretend like they weren’t there. What was harder, on the other hand, was thinking about how such a magnificent thing as this could be forgotten, never documented by anyone. Dipper wanted to be the person who recognized the work of these ancient individuals. Right now it didn’t look like he would be doing any of that without a writing utensil.

He cast another fond look at the hieroglyphs, and quickly translated them in his head. ‘Summoning’ and ‘God’ were the only things he processed though. Underneath that particular sentence, was what appeared to be a chant in latin, with repetitive symbols and letters.

So there were people that were summoning a god? From the looks of it, their God seemed to be a triangular figure, standing out from the rest because of the bright yellow chalk that made up its body. As an interesting side note, the god appeared to be a pyramid of some sorts, not unlike a temple.

The yips and howls from outside of the cave grew louder. Dipper’s mind ran full speed, trying to figure out what to do. To summon the god, and hope that they give him the knowledge to find his way back there, or to wait out the night and try to find his way home when the morning comes (and also make an attempt at avoiding Grunkle Stan’s wrath), given that he could actually find a way out of the cave.

Similar to the events that had transpired earlier, Dipper was not given a choice. A loud and unsettling howl came from above him, and he whipped his head around to see a familiar set of claws scrabbling at the stone of the cave entrance, trying to push their owner’s body through.

Okay, so now it was summon the God and hope that they save him from certain death, or wait for a brutal and unpleasant death. The decision had already been made in his eyes.

With a speed he didn’t think himself capable of, Dipper scanned the symbols on the wall and translated them hurriedly. It was hard to keep track of everything being that he couldn’t write his thoughts down, but sheer nervous energy allowed him to compile a sentence that actually sounded somewhat legitimate. 

But it was in latin. And sadly enough, Dipper didn’t speak latin.

He turned around yet again when the creature announced its success from behind him, having gotten its front half through the small entrance. It snapped its maw in anticipation, growling angrily. Dipper swallowed his fear and tried to ignore the shaking of his own hands.

Now or never.

“Triangulum, entangulum. Veneforis dominus ventium. Veneforis videntis omnium!” Dipper shouted into the empty room, and for a moment everything went silent; even the beast trying to claw its way in seemed to be in shock. Dipper gulped nervously and wondered if the spell had worked.

Then, he was being jerked forward, a pulling sensation in his stomach causing him to clutch it in anticipated pain. Before he could even process what was going on, words were being forced out of his mouth, without him intending to say anything. “Egassem sdrawkcab. Egassem sdrawkcab. Egassem sdrawkcab! Egassem sdrawkcab! Egassem sdrawkcab!”

A light grew in front of his eyes, so bright that it was almost unbearable. Distinctly, he heard the sound of an animal whining in fear, before it stopped completely. Gathering his bearings, Dipper yelped in surprise, before recoiling in shock, drawing away until his back was up against the wall. “What the—”

“My oh my, Gravity Falls, it is good to be back!” the voice of the apparent god boomed from a few feet away. 

Dipper cringed, bringing his hands up to his ears because of the loud volume. The god like out a small “hm” sound, as though understanding his qualms, and then the light died down completely, fading to reveal a now completely monochrome world.

Before him, was the ancient people’s apparent “God”, appearing as though they were straight from a comic book. Dipper bit back a yelp of surprise, and stared up at the god in wonder.

“Yes, yes,” they said, waving a hand dismissively. “I know I can be a little bit surprising upon first viewing, but you should have known what you were getting into.” A pause, almost as if the god were waiting for him to say something. “So? State your reason for summoning me.”

“Wha—”

“Oh!” The god said, interrupting him for the second time. “Wait! Before anything else, let me take care of this problem.”

They snapped their fingers, and a series of agonized howls rang out from behind them, along with a glowing blue light. Dipper shielded his eyes once more because of it, and in a desperate bid to avoid being traumatized for life, looked away. It was left to his imagination about what had happened, but the sounds alone were enough to make his face morph into an expression of horror.

“So?” they repeated, waiting expectantly for an answer. Their voice was obnoxiously nasally, but undeniably male. So the god was a he.

Dipper stammered nervously, trying to come up with an answer to his question. What was he even supposed to say to the god that he had just summoned? ‘Sorry, I didn’t really want to summon you, but I had no choice. Can you get me back home safely and let me come back here anytime I want?’.

“U-uh, um…” he mumbled, to his own embarrassment. 

“Well?” the god asked, looking at his wrist as though checking the time on a watch. “I don’t got all day kid. Spill it.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Dipper blurted out, not putting too much thought into the statement, just wanting to appease the god. Shortly after, he corrected himself: “I mean, I, er, I stumbled upon this cave with all of these hieroglyphs, and…” Dipper mulled upon what to say next, but the god wasn’t having any of that.

He put his short arms on his hips, his single eye narrowing in what appeared to be annoyance. “Come on, the clock is ticking.” As if to emphasize his point, the god tapped his wrist, once again referring to the invisible watch for support. “Answer the question.” 

The words were unnecessary; the look alone caused Dipper to choke out some more words, rather unceremoniously.

“There were these creatures, chasing me!” Dipper pointed behind the god, towards the now decimated monster. “And they isolated me in this cave! I had a journal, with the right cipher key,” he gestured to it, “and I was able to figure out what were the correct summons, and then I summoned you! I mean, um, I would rather summon a god and hope for the best than suffer a grisly, gory death?” the response was phrased more as a question, much to Dipper’s own chagrin.

The triangular god placed a hand directly under his bowtie, and looked at the wall questioningly. “I see… hmm, how interesting!” he floated over to where the hieroglyphs and paintings were, observing them with something that almost seemed like casual interest. “I don’t recall ever commanding you flesh sacks to do this. I’m almost honored.” 

The god turned around, facing Dipper. “Tell you what, kid! I think I’ll spare you! As a reward for summoning me, I’ll give you some of these.” He made a motion with his hand that looked like a wave, before a collection of teeth flew into his hands from the pile of ash that used to be the creature.

He dropped them into Dipper’s lap, and watched in what seemed like morbid amusement. Dipper yelped in shock, and shoved the teeth off of himself with great haste. A bitter sense of dread welled up inside of him. What kind of god exactly had he come across?

“The name’s Bill Cipher. Pleased to meet you.” The god extended a small black hand, which Dipper dutifully ignored.

“I, uh, what now?” was all he could manage, without the words coming out in an incoherent garble.

“What now? Well, kid, you owe me something.” The god said, voice somehow more obnoxious now than before.

“I owe you something?” Dipper asked, hesitantly. He looked down at himself, and then towards his book and flashlight, which had been left on the floor a few feet away in his bid to escape the near-blinding light. “Sorry, um, Bill… but I don’t have much to offer. Everything I have is at home.”

“Yep, I know. But I don’t have any use for the material objects you might have at your house.” Bill said, staring Dipper down. Dipper looked away, abashedly, too caught up with the fact that Bill had claimed to know that he had left most of his things at home to really pay attention to the rest of his sentence.

“Then what do you…?” he asked, trailing off, unsure what he could possibly say.

“There,” the god pointed a finger at him. “What I want.”

Dipper looked behind him, at the wall, and then down towards his own body. “Sorry, but I don’t quite understand.” He said, anxiously.

“Sorry, had I not phrased it well enough?” Bill asked. “ _You_.” The voice was unexpectedly loud and low pitched, causing Dipper to flinch back slightly.

“Me?” he asked, gaze flitting around the room uneasily. “Still, that’s kind of, um, unclear.”

“A Pines’.” Bill stated, simply. “I want a member of the Pines’ family. It would be a nice payment, considering all of the agitation your line has put me through.”

“My line?” Dipper questioned, suddenly feeling more confused than scared.

The god rolled his singular eye. “You’ll find out, in due time.” Bill extended a hand once more. “So, do we have a deal?”

“A deal? I mean, what? What do you mean by… any of this? I don’t even…”

“Ugh,” Bill sighed, clearly displeased. “Do we really have to go into the specifics?”

“Uh…” Dipper started, unsure what response the god was expecting. “Yes?” really, what else was there to say?; Bill had been dodging all of his questions, deflecting them right back at Dipper. Who the hell answers a question with another question? Apparently a floating godly triangle with a top hat and a bow tie did.

Another sigh from Bill. “Well, that’s unfortunate. And here I was hoping we could do this without any problems!” his already grating voice turned into something like a whine, more high pitched (if that were even possible) than Dipper had heard before. “I just want to make a teensy weensy little deal with you. Nothing all that big!”

Dipper continued to have a befuddled look on his face, so Bill explained further: “I want you to visit me every once and awhile. It doesn’t have to be everyday—though that undoubtedly would be nice—maybe just once every week. Or perhaps more than that.” A pause, in which Bill seemed to be thinking about something; his sole eye locked moreso on the wall than Dipper. “Ah, what do you flesh-sacks call it? Enemies, foes… that’s right, friends! We could be friends. Don’t friends hang out with each other?” 

At this point, Bill seemed to be looking for some kind of validation from Dipper; like he needed reassurance that he had gotten the word correct. Dipper, unsure what else to do and perplexed beyond belief, nodded.

“But I mean, you’re…”

“Godly?” Bill suggested. “Ethereal? Primordial?” Dipper dumbly stared back at him. “While all of those would be correct, I see no reason for them to hinder our friendship.”

While Dipper desperately wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t help but notice how Bill had referred to their ‘friendship’ in the present tense. As though they were already friends. Unsettling, certainly, but not nearly as shocking as any of the other cryptic things the god had said.

“Make no mistake,” Bill continued, “I don’t claim to be the pillar of innocence or purity. I may be not your… ideal friend,” Dipper swore, if only for a moment, that Bill’s voice had an edge of bitterness to it. He brushed it off as nothing. “But I certainly can try. Give me a shot?”

“No!” Dipper said, though it came across as more of a yell. Bill looked about ready to say something, based on the accusatory glint in his eye, so the pre-teen added more before he could be reprimanded; “I mean… it’s nothing personal, really. I just… you’re a god, and, y’know, it’s hard for me to really fathom becoming friends with you.” 

Dipper adjusted his posture, sitting up rather than completely leaning on the wall behind him. Bill waited patiently, so he resumed. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not completely averse to the idea. Having a god for a friend sounds, er, interesting, to say the least.”

“But…?” Bill asked, a suspicion tone creeping into his voice.

“But I just don’t get it.” Dipper said, meekly, shaking his head. “I don’t understand why you would want me, me, of all people to be your… friend. There’s so many other options! All of the townsfolk; Mabel, Soos, Wendy, Stan, they are all much more sociable!”

“Yeah, duh.” Bill rolled his eye. “But I don’t want sociable. I want someone like you; you know, the whole package; smart, a natural problem-solver, elegant.” Dipper became impossibly more confused at the word ‘elegant’ (he hardly thought that it applied to him), but nevertheless continued to listen as Bill went on. “More precisely, however, would be to say that I just want you. No one else.”

“No one else? But surely I’m not that special…” Dipper was suddenly reminded of how a while back in their conversation Bill had offhandedly mentioned it had something to do with his ‘line’, and the Pines Family. “Didn’t… earlier, didn’t you mention it having something to do with my family? What does that mean?”

“Do I go into great depth about this whole thing? Can you accept that I chose you and be flattered by it?” Bill said, snappily.

Dipper wasn’t sure whether to be offended or frightened. He settled on both. “Not, um, not really? I’ve never been one to jump straight into things without much thought.” He said plainly. “Hey, how do you know all of this stuff about me anyway?”

Bill crossed his arms, as though the answer were obvious. “Omnipresence. Do you not see the whole ‘God’ thing on the wall?” He gestured to it, and Dipper’s gaze followed the motion to a painting of a glowing yellow triangle, with a single, wide eye in the middle, overlooking everything. “The all-seeing eye.”

Dipper’s brows knit in puzzlement. “The Eye of Providence?” he asked, turning his attention back to Bill. “Is that where it came from? You?”

“Yes, yes,” Bill seemed slightly more agitated now, and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Of course it did. Trust me, I’m everywhere in your human history. You just hardly notice it.”

Something Dipper would most certainly have to look into later, given that he made it home alive. 

“So.” Bill started once more, staring the pre-teen down. “Do we have a deal?”

Dipper hesitantly glanced from the wall, to Bill, and to the pile of monster teeth that had lied long since forgotten on the ground. “Um… you mean you’ll save me, and uh, hopefully continue to save me as long as I, er, be your friend? Is that it?”

“Exactly, kiddo’!” Bill chirped, a shrill tone of excitement clear in his speech. “Not only that, but I’ll show you around Gravity Falls! All the fauna and wildlife and creatures you can imagine, available for your viewing pleasure. As an added bonus, I’ll even give you as many pens as you want, just so you never lose one again!”

Admittedly, it did sound like a pretty fair deal to Dipper. He gets to document all of his findings in his journal (and not encounter a situation like this ever again), for the mere price of showing up every once and awhile to cure a lonely god’s boredom? How could he say no to that?

“And there’s no catch or anything, right?” Dipper asked, questioningly.

“Nope,” Bill said. There was something so unsettling, so unnerving about that single word that it almost made Dipper want to back out. There was a sudden chill that ran up his spine, and whether that was from the cold or Bill himself, he didn’t know (didn’t want to know). “No catch. It’s as I’ve said it.”

Dipper bit his lip, but nodded regardless. “Okay, I’ll… I’ll make a deal with you.”

There was some kind of twisted glee in Bill’s eye then, flashing for a mere moment, before it disappeared so quickly that Dipper wondered if he had even seen it in the first place.

“Wonderful,” Bill practically purred. He extended one of his small black hands, and offered it up for Dipper to shake. “So.” A pause, where Dipper and Bill were staring eachother down. Dipper, not even to his own surprise, averted his gaze first. “Do we have a deal?”

Dipper looked down at his own hand, weighing in his options. Was this really the right choice? Befriending a god and selling his summer at Gravity Falls for some extra knowledge?

Hardly a choice at all to Dipper.

Before long, he had raised his hand as well, only an inch away from making contact with Bill’s own. 

“Deal,” he whispered, barely audible. But somehow, someway, Bill heard it. 

The god shook Dipper’s hand with enthusiasm, cyan blue flames engulfing the spot where they met. Dipper yelped at tryed to pull away at first, in equal parts surprised and afraid for his life at the sudden burst of color. They were so similar to the one’s Bill had used to burn the invading monster to a crisp; it was hard not to be extremely concerned.

“Don’t worry,” Bill said, gently. Just seconds prior Dipper would have thought it impossible for his normally obnoxious and condescending voice to come across as being so affectionate. He would have reacted with surprise had he not been fretting over the fact that his hand was currently on fire.

Bill floated away, breaking contact with Dipper and sitting back contently, watching as he flailed around miserably not realizing that the flames were gone.

“Oh my God!” Dipper yelled, one final time, checking every inch of the skin on his hand to make sure that nothing had gotten burnt. After the period of panic and dread was over with, and Dipper was satisfied with the current state of his flesh, he addressed Bill, glaring at him.

“What was that!” Dipper screeched, indignantly. “What were those!” 

“Flames.“ Bill said, nonchalantly. “You’ll get used to them, eventually. It’s my preferred way of conceptualizing things, making them appear out of thin air.”

Dipper didn’t know whether or not Bill simply wanted to show off, but the bold display of cyan fire hardly seemed necessary to him. He gawked; “s-still! Don’t scare me like that!”

“Why not?” Bill asked, seeming genuinely curious. “It’s fun to mess around with you. Are all meat-bags like this?”

“No? I mean—I don’t know!” he yelled, exasperatedly. And then, after a long and heady sigh, “can you take me back home?”

Bill moved his arms in what would imply the human version of a shrug. “Sure thing, kid.” He floated closer to him, before looking him up and down; “hm. Saying ‘kid’ all the time doesn’t feel quite right. It’s impersonal. How about…” Bill looked up at Dipper’s hat, and Dipper could practically visualize the light bulb forming above his head. 

Bill pointed to the blue and white accessory. “Pine Tree!”

“Pine… what?” Dipper looked upwards, despite the fact that he couldn’t see past the bill (the pun was unintended, but he apologizes nonetheless) of the hat. 

“The pine tree. On your hat. It seems fitting.” Bill observed it for a few more moments. “Pine Tree, Pine Tree… I think it works quite well! Rolls right off of the tongue.” Dipper wanted to point out that Bill didn’t have a tongue, but refrained from saying anything stupid.

“So, uh, home?” he interjected, interrupting Bill’s ramblings about ‘Pine Tree’ and how perfect it was.

Bill looked at him, appearing to be surprised that Dipper had said something, almost as though he were expecting him to remain silent. “You want to go home so quickly? I’m sad, Pine Tree. I would have thought you’d have liked to spend more time with your best friend.”

Oh, Dipper thought. So it went from ‘friend’ to ‘best friend’? When exactly did Bill decide that was the case? Dipper wouldn’t even call them acquaintances. 

“Um, yeah, sorry. I’m just… tired. It happens to humans sometimes, y’know?” one awkward chuckle later, a firm stare directed towards the ground, and Dipper decided that he had done enough talking for the evening. 

Bill looked at him blankly. “Yeah. Of course I’ll take you home. Don’t get so worked up about it.”

Dipper did not say anything in response, and sincerely hoped that Bill would not force him to. 

For the first time that day, however, it seemed as though Lady Luck was on his side; Dipper blinked, and in the next instant he was standing in the middle of the forest, looking at what could only be described as the most beautiful meadow he had ever seen. It was dark, bathed in moonlight, yet somehow breathtaking in the way that the grass moved with the wind and the crickets chirped idly in the background as white noise. 

“What…” Dipper began, still marveling in sight before him. “What is this place?”

Bill floated up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder yet remaining not directly in his line of sight. “A taste of what is to come.” 

The pre-teen couldn't help the smile that grew on his face, the corners of his lips twitching up in mirth. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered reverently. Then, as a side note, “and not monochrome.”

“Yup.” Bill said. He removed his hand from Dipper’s shoulder, and floated towards a particularly large daisy. For whatever reason, Dipper felt compelled to follow him. “You see, I can control dreams. Everything about them. Colors, shapes, sizes, things that appear, whether they be friendly or sinister. I can make nightmares, or pleasant little fantasies.” 

Bill sighed, seeming discontented. He flicked the daisy with his thumb and index finger (what appeared to be his thumb and index finger. It was hard to distinguish which was which being that the god only had four of them). “But I’m afraid that’s as far as my interaction with your mortal realm goes. Can’t do much else but plant some ideas in one of your human heads.”

Dipper jerked away from the god in surprise. “Wait, you mean you can’t actually interact with the world? Then what was the point of this whole deal!” he yelled, exasperatedly. “Does that mean I could be dying in that cave right now?” Dipper backed away slowly as he continued with his tangent, growing more concerned by the second. “Bill! If you can’t do anything in the real world, then how did you prevent those things from killing me! Couldn’t they be mauling my body right now?”

“Now hold on a minute Pine Tree—” 

Bill made an attempt to say something before he was promptly cut off by an outraged Dipper. “Wake me up this instant!” the pre-teen yelled, hands balling into fists by his sides. “Get me out of this dream!”

“Pine Tree, Pine Tree listen—”

Dipper huffed, and crossed his arms, feeling more offended than anything. “I’m not going to listen! You lied to me!”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold your horses, kid.” Bill said defensively, waving his hands around in front of him as if to indicate a surrender. “I never lied to you. I said I would show you around Gravity Falls. And I meant it. It’ll just be a bit, eh, not that real.”

Dipper glared at him accusatorily and remained firm in his stance, not very impressed with Bill’s explanation. “Hey, what’s with that look! You’ll still be able to take notes on things when you wake up.” The god gestured to his journal. “Besides, much better than placing yourself in any real danger. You can just observe from the sidelines and scribble in that diary of yours.” 

“Okay,” Dipper said, through gritted teeth, unbelieving of Bill’s story. “But you still haven’t explained how you saved me from dying at the hands of those creatures.”

“Well…” Bill seemed hesitant to tell Dipper anything regarding the monsters, only serving to make him more suspicious. After a pregnant silence, Bill straightened his bowtie and resumed speaking. “Ahem, let’s just say they know who I am.” 

“Know who you are?” Dipper questioned.

“They’re animals, Pine Tree. Not stupid. They choose their enemies wisely,” and then after a moment of what appeared to be consideration, he added, “most of the time.”

“That’s just…” Dipper still wasn’t sure where Bill was going with this but nevertheless listened, trying to figure out how everything fit together. Some of it made sense (to a degree), but the rest was simply to much for him to fully comprehend; Bill’s limitations, what he could and couldn’t do, the creatures he had encountered earlier in the forest. Dipper was about to open his mouth to voice some sort of protest, but stopped Bill started talking again.

“Hard to believe, I know.” He began. “Trust me, I know. But think about the risk, and the reward. As much knowledge as you could ever possibly want, at the small price of a few measly hours with me. An offer you can’t resist! Think of the possibilities!” 

Dipper blankly stared at Bill, not quite getting it, before the god waved his hand, making an image appear in front of them.

It wasn’t a projection, but it certainly was close. The screen shifted and changed, giving off the appearance of an old-timey film, something that he or Mabel might find in the storage room of the Mystery Shack. A few seconds passed where it was the same forest as the one near the mystery shack, leading to a very much confused Dipper, who still had no idea what was going on.

“Bill, what is this?”

Bill said nothing, and merely pointed at the screen. Dipper ignored whatever puzzlement he might have been feeling and shifted his focus back to it.

Then, in the next instant, there was an image of Dipper, standing in a field, taking notes on what seemed to be a large creature. Another picture appeared. It was him again, leaning against a tree and watching Multi-Bear and scribbling down things in his journal in the same manner as before. A galaxy, next, woodland animals, after that.

If the images were meant to sooth his worrying, they only served to befuddle him more. “Bill, um, is this the future, or something?”

“Nope,” the god said, popping the ‘p’. “Just showing you what could happen if you decide to hang out with me.”

Dipper looked at him pointedly. “I mean, I’m not totally friendless. New information is tempting, but if I were to look to you to curb my loneliness, well, sorry man, but I would have to be pretty desperate. There are plenty of less…” Dipper looked Bill up and down. “Triangular people to hang out with.”

“Oh, what? Is it because I have three sides? Is that it?” said the god, placing a hand to his chest (at least what appeared to be his chest) in mock offense.

“Well, no, I mean—” Dipper’s mind scrambled with what he could say to Bill to avoid actually irritating him. “It’s not just because you have three sides. Dude, you’re a god, right?” 

“Yes,”

“It’s because of that, really. Because you’re a god. Not exactly the kind of company my family would like me to hang out with.”

“Oh, shush, Pine Tree. You’ve already made the deal. It’s set in stone, now. No taking it back.”

“Yeah,” Dipper sighed, looking back out at the meadow stretched across the landscape in front of him. “You’re right. Can’t really reverse it if I do something stupid.”

There was silence between them for the next few minutes, neither seeming particularly willing to talk. Bill remained silent, barely moving from his position beside the pre-teen. Dipper felt awkward, but also comforted at the same time, knowing that he could now go out and research whatever he wanted to without being restricted by his environment. He wouldn’t have to worry about monsters or beasts chasing him around moonlit forests at night, thanks to Bill’s watchful eye (a bit creepy, Dipper was aware, but losing an insignificant amount of privacy wouldn’t hurt, considering what the rewards would be). Maybe it was a good thing having a god on his side.

“Hey, uh, Bill?” Dipper spoke, breaking the peaceful quiet between them. He shuffled uncomfortably, gripping his journal tight in his hands.

Bill turned to face him. “What is it, kid?”

“Can you wake me up now?” he bit his lip. “I kind of want to go home.”

Bill tipped his top hat, and regarded him with a cool stare. “You need only ask.”

Dipper wanted to say more, to slip out a quick ‘thanks’, but was interrupted when he was suddenly in a different terrain, wind and chill biting at his cheeks. 

He blinked, disoriented, and looked around. He was near the… Mystery Shack? How did he get there? When he asked Bill to wake him up he thought he would be woken up in the cave, not standing up, right outside the doors of his Grunkle’s home.

One of the many things he would have to ask Bill about later, given that what he had just been through wasn’t some sort of weird fever dream and he hadn’t conjured the events of the past hour or so up in his head. Dipper gripped his head in pain; that long of a sentence was too much for his brain to comprehend at the moment.

Dipper stumbled unsteadily into the Mystery Shack, opening the door with a light twist of the knob. He must have forgotten to lock it when he left the house.

The floorboards creaked upon his entrance, as they normally did. Everything was just how he had left it. However, gazing upon the darkness of the house, he felt strangely unsettled, despite the fact that he knew there was nothing there. At least he thought there wasn’t. 

Dipper clutched the straps of his bag from where they rested on his shoulders; he didn’t even want to think about things like that. It would only serve to frighten him more and therefore render the entire point of him leaving the Shack in the first place meaningless. The pre-teen furrowed his brows. Why did he go to the forest in the middle of the night…? It seemed stupid thinking back on it (and also thinking back on everything that had just recently happened with Bill), but he knew there was some rationale to it. 

Facing his fears—it was as Grunkle Stan had told him.

Dipper knew he should have never listened to his advice.

He peered upstairs, checking to make sure that there was no angry parental figure or twin sister waiting at the top. Dipper sighed in relieve, and made his ascent, climbing step by step. This time (unlike when he had initially left the Shack) he payed special attention to each of the steps, stepping on places that he was aware wouldn’t creak when he put his foot down on them.

Hastily jumping the last few steps, he finally made it to second floor, where his and Mabel’s room was. Dipper quickly looked around again, before opening the door to his room and practically leaping in. 

He shut it as quickly as possible, careful not to make the door slam. Turning around to face where Mabel would (hopefully) be asleep, he relaxed considerably when he saw her resting comfortably, mumbling something about boy bands. 

He left his bag by the door, only opening it to remove his journal. Tiptoeing over to his bed, he slipped in under the blankets and placed it underneath his pillow resting his head on it. Uncomfortable, yes, but this was where he felt it would be the safest from anybody’s discoveries. Mabel was aware of it existing, but she had no idea its contents contained more than just the average gnome or troll; no idea that he had been wandering out all on his own and trying to solve mysteries by himself. No, today wasn’t the first day when he had tried his hand and exploring solo, but it most certainly was the only time when something like… what had happened had happened. 

Dipper shifted in bed, turning over onto his side and staring out the window once more. Again, as if on cue a crow, not at all unlike the one he had seen earlier, landed on the windowsill, merely sitting there and watching him; he stared back, meeting its gaze with a determined look. Dipper knew that the crow couldn’t have possibly understood what exactly it meant (or even that it had recognized a change in expression), but nonetheless he fisted the pillow beneath him and felt somehow triumphant in victory. Funny to think that a crow watching him was what had been the trigger for all of this.

A small smile had come to his face, the faintest of giggles escaping his lips, cheeks flushing from excitement; the realization of the events that had transpired within the last hour finally dawned on him. Oh, dear. Neither Grunkle Stan nor Mabel would be pleased if they had found out what he had done. The feeling of doing something he wasn’t supposed to was exhilarating, in a way. Dipper had always considered himself to be a rather proper person, always following rules and doing what he was told (for the most part), never before had he been a part of something so daring and bold. He very quickly became addicted to the feeling, staring wide-eyed at the bed, heart pounding with adrenaline. Another laugh, and Dipper promptly passed out.

Then, in the next moment he shot up, looking around wildly at a monochrome world; it seemed as though Bill had decided to make an appearance for the second time that night.

Dipper’s eyes flitted around the room, looking for the familiar bright yellow color of the god. “Bill…?” he questioned, keeping his voice low to a whisper.

“Hey kid, did ya’ miss me?” a voice shouted from behind him. Dipper’s head whipped around and he stared at Bill pointedly. 

“Bill?” and then, after a glance over to Mabel was lying in bed, “can Mabel—um, my sister—can she hear us?”

“Not at all, kiddo’.” Said Bill flippantly. “Don’t you remember?” the god snapped, and an image of them when they had been talking earlier flashed in front of him. Dipper flinched back in surprise, still unused to the whole ‘making things appear out of thin air’ act that Bill had put on. “We had this talk earlier. Oh, you know, about how I can’t interact with the physical world. Trust me, you’re sister is sound asleep in bed. If you need more confirmation, I can show you her dreams.” The god looked about ready to snap his fingers again, but Dipper stopped him before he could actually go through with it.

“Yeah, no dude. I’d rather not see my sister’s dreams.” Dipper cringed. Who knew what sort of stuff was in there?

“Your loss,” Bill sighed, floating over so that he was in front of Dipper. The pre-teen was grateful for that small amount of charity Bill had granted him, being that his neck was starting to get sore from having to crane it around to look at the god.

“Anyway,” Dipper thought back to what he was going to ask before Bill had distracted him. “Why did you come back into my dreams? Is there something you need to tell me, or are you just bored?”

Bill closed his singular eye, doing what Dipper could only assume was a triangle’s way of shrugging. “A bit of both. I felt like talking, to be honest, and there were also some things I needed to clarify with you.”

“Clarify with me?” Dipper asked, a brow raising. He had thought him and the god had worked out all of the kinks of the deal earlier. 

“Yeah, just to make sure there weren’t any…” a pause, “misunderstandings.”

“Oh, okay?” Dipper said, confusion evident in his tone. “Though I’m not quite sure how I could have misunderstood anything. You made it perfectly clear what you wanted, and then I said what I wanted, and then…” he trailed off; Bill had probably already gotten the point.

“Of course. The deal has been made, no taking that back.” The god looked at Dipper, as though expecting him to voice a complaint. He shook his head ‘no’. “I just wanted to talk about, oh, the specifics.”

“Specifics of what?” Dipper brushed a hand through his air, sitting up straighter as to make himself appear more formal. He at least wanted to look decent when discussing a contract.

If Bill took note about the shift in position and attitude, then he didn’t say anything, only continuing with his speech. “Specifics of what exactly ‘hanging out with me’ entails.”

Dipper deadpanned, mind wandering to the first thing it could think of.

“No, no, no.” Bill waved a finger back and forth, as though to chastise Dipper. “I know what you’re thinking of, and it’s not that. Not entirely.”

“Not entirely!” Dipper flushed, shuffling away from Bill’s floating form quickly. “What does that mean?”

“Not that strange mating practice you humans call ‘intercourse’.” Bill stated, as though it were obvious. “Just friendly hugs and the like.”

“Oh.” Dipper said, placing his hands on his face and sighing loudly. “You should have said that upfront. I don’t even know why you would categorize hugs with… you know what, never mind.” 

Hugs were fine for Dipper. Nothing he couldn’t handle. After twelve years with Mabel by his side, constant touching and playful tackling became the norm. It didn’t creep him out as much as it used to when his friends would hug him. “So, uh, anything else?” he asked, getting back into a more comfortable position.

“Hm… let me think.” Bill paused and placed a hand directly under his bow tie, seemingly trying to imitate how a human would scratch their chin in thought. Then, after a few more moments of thought, the god’s eye widened; “yes, there is one more thing.”

“What is it?” Dipper prompted.

“Here’s the thing, kid.” Bill floated closer to Dipper, plopping down on his legs, taking a seat. “This,” he gestured to his triangular body, “is a form I reserve for my acquaintances. People I’m not too familiar with. However, you,” the god poked Dipper’s chest, “are my friend. So I will treat you as such.”

“Which means…?” 

“Let’s say, tomorrow, or the next time you decide to visit me, I’ll appear in a different form. It might be a tad scary at first, but don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll find it much easier to adapt to this one.”

“Okay?” Dipper said, despite having still been confused by Bill’s general vagueness. He thought back to the why the god had even bothered to enter his dream to tell him all of that in the first place. Rather unnecessary if you ask Dipper. After all, it was just him announcing that he would be changing how he looked in a dream and how him and Dipper had to exchange friendly hugs every now and then.

“Wait…” Dipper said, eyes narrowing. “How do I even hug a triangle in the first place?”

“And that,” Bill said, tipping his top hat to the pre-teen. “Is for you to figure out.”

With a bang, and an extra flash for added flare, the god was gone; Dipper hardly had time to process his departure before he promptly passed out, only awaking in a cold sweat after a particularly disturbing nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that Bill has very grandiose taste, and Dipper can only watch in fascination as a mixture of horror and beauty unfolds before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [monthly updates]
> 
> Hello, and I'm back again for edition number two of Bitter! Boy, have I got to tell you this chapter was tough to write. It wasn't like I didn't _want_ to per say, I just... lacked motivation, if that makes sense? I've got myself caught up in all of this planning for future chapters that it feels almost like I'm boring anybody who might be reading this, because of how underdeveloped these first few chapters might be. But please stick around for future chapters, my friends!; we only go downhill from here...

When Dipper woke up, early in the morning, he was sweaty, uncomfortable, and more afraid than he had been in a while.

His eyes darted around nervously, locking onto even the slightest movement of shadow from the corner of his eye; his heart leaped and skipped, and he made an effort to breathe more evenly, which soon proved to be futile, as his heart beat only grew faster from there on; a single bead of sweat dripped down his forehead, and he reached up a hand to wipe it away, cursing under his breath.

Nightmares had been an exceptionally rare occurrence for Dipper Pines. Especially nightmares that included the gorey death of everyone he had ever known and loved.

With a sigh, he pushed the blankets off of himself and sat up, fingers brushing through messy brown locks.

Maybe it was because of the events that had transpired last night, but there was something about his and Mabel’s shared room that seemed so… solemn, almost creepy. Dipper wouldn’t necessarily call himself the bravest person, per say, but he knew well enough that the sudden wave of fear that accompanied his dream had been more than just a natural reaction to his bout of paranoia. 

Hesitantly, Dipper threw his legs from the bed, and stood on shaky legs, creeping carefully as to not wake Mabel up. He peered out the window, looking at the horizon as the faintest glimmer of sun began to poke through dull grey clouds. Dipper couldn’t quite bring himself to appreciate the beauty given that he was currently debating whether or not he was actually losing it or something of the like. Maybe that really was the case, being that he was awake at early hours in the morning and dressed in the clothes that he had ran around in last night. Dipper would have to remember to change them later.

He brought both of his arms up to the windowsill, and smiled out at the open expanse of world, resting his head on the crook of his elbow. It was tempting to fall asleep once more, but he didn’t want to risk being thrown back into the nightmare. Too many unpleasant, horrifying things in one dream. That, and there was also the fact that he had some ‘work’ to do, though Dipper had argued with himself about where and when exactly his next meeting with Bill would be. He didn’t have to sneak out, but it would be hard to allocate a certain amount of time every couple of days to spend in Bill’s presence since Grunkle Stan had demanded that he and Mabel work 24/7. Which left either early morning, late night, or lunch breaks (which were admittedly short, but did manage to serve their purpose).

He glanced down at the clock resting on the nightstand, checking the time. It read “4:23”. Just about the time when the birds would start chirping.

Dipper definitely could make an attempt at seeing Bill this morning, though Grunkle Stan was often times unpredictable in his sleeping patterns; Dipper had no way of knowing if he would suddenly wake up and catch him in the act.

The pre-teen looked back at his bag, which had been placed haphazardly near the door in his haste to get into bed last night. With one final thought of hesitation, Dipper came to the conclusion: it was now or never, right? 

Dipper headed straight for his bed, pushing aside the pillow where his head had rested just a few moments ago and sighing in relief upon his discovery that his journal was still there, exactly where he had left it last night; there was always the faint concern everytime he went out exploring when he knew he wasn’t to that someone would catch him. Perhaps it was guilt weighing him down, or perhaps it was something else—something more forced—but dread always welled up inside of him when attempting to keep the journal away from prying eyes. It was unsettling, like a paranoia more profound than he had ever experienced.

After retrieving his journal and settling the pillow back into its original place, Dipper strolled over to the door, only stopping to cast a side-glance at Mabel from the corner of his eye, checking to see if she was awake. There was only the sound of quiet breathing and the occasional mumble slipping past her lips, and he quickly deemed that she was sound asleep, probably absorbed in a fantasy land of her mind’s own creation.

Dipper pulled up his bag from off of the floor, casually throwing one of the straps over his shoulder. It was harder to build up enough confidence to leave his room this time, whereas last night (technically this morning) he had been pushed forward by sheer willpower alone. He bit his lip, and told himself multiple times that this would be quick; his ‘chat’, or whatever the god would like to call it, with Bill had a maximum duration of one hour, and Dipper was going to make sure that it stayed that way. He wouldn’t let neither Bill nor himself ramble too much or stay in one area for too long. There was a time limit, a place, and an activity. In effect a schedule, of sorts.

Finally, after a short while of debating, Dipper opened the door speedily and shot out of his and Mabel’s shared bedroom, closing the door behind himself as silently as he could manage.

Following the same pattern as last night, Dipper snuck down the stairs with professional grace, having long since memorized which ones would creak when stepped on them. He couldn’t help himself entirely, but Dipper figured that for the most part it was nervousness affecting his motor skills.

With a dull thud, his right foot hit the floor, and he peeked around the corner of the wall to make sure that the coast was clear. Nothing out of place, everything just where he had left it, and Dipper barely had a moment of thought before he made a beeline for the front door, scampering out and closing it in rapid succession. 

The pre-teen pressed a hand to his heart, feeling the fast thudding underneath his fingertips and making an attempt at calming himself by practicing simple breathing exercises. He groaned in frustration at his own shakiness, wanting the anxious feeling to go away. 

After a minute of rest, the edge in the back of his mind dissipated, and he looked around warily, finally prepared to charge back into the forest. The sun still had not poked out yet and the dark clouds looming far above were ominous in the way that they cast a dark shadow on the world around him. It would have been pitch black if not for the faintest of lights coming from the Mystery Shack’s front porch. Dipper reached behind himself and into his backpack, quickly grabbing a flashlight and clicking it on, illuminating the many trees that lay in front of him. He gulped, and steeled himself.

Taking a few hesitant steps forward, Dipper began his descent into the darkness that was the forest. He looked around at all of the trees, notice just how tall they were; even when inclining his head upwards and pointing his flashlight at their peaks, he could barely tell where they ended and the sky began. 

Dipper shook his head, focusing back on the dirt and twigs and front of him, being careful not to trip or stumble over any of them. The area was relatively clear, and easy to trek through (much to Dipper’s luck), but still could get him face-down in the dirt if he didn’t focus hard enough.

The pre-teen stumbled around blindly for a couple more minutes, unsure where he was going, but still determined to get there. Bill had been very vague with how exactly Dipper was supposed to find him again. Was he just supposed to walk into the forest, or...? No matter what he was supposed to do, the pre-teen settled on just offering a meek suggestion of the god's name: "Bill?"

In the same manner as the last time he and the god had met, Bill appeared quite literally out of thin air, blinding light accompanying him. Dipper didn’t fall down again but did flinch back in the slightest, bringing up a hand to shield his eyes.

“Ow!” Dipper yelped, annoyance ringing clear in his voice. “Please, Bill, tone it down!”

Soon enough, the light dimmed down entirely, only a faint glow around Bill’s triangular form. As expected, the world had gone greyscale—the only exceptions being Bill himself and all of Dipper and his assets.

Still cringing, with spots in his vision from the intensity of the light, Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a small sigh of relief. “T-Thank you.”

“Well you are very, very welcome Pine Tree!” Bill shouted, as unable to control his volume as ever. “Did you miss me? I know I spoke to you last night, but I would still greatly enjoy getting some positive feedback.”

Dipper stared at him blankly, flicking off his flashlight with the press of a button. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He responded, letting out a quick yawn shortly after. 

“Thanks for your cooperation, kid!” Bill said, seeming particularly smug. “I know how difficult it can be adapting to all of this, but you’ve done well! Consider me impressed.”

“Thanks.” Dipper mumbled. “Speaking of last night, what about that different form you said you would be using?”

The god’s eye widened, as though he had just remembered something. “Oh, right, right…”

Another flash of bright white light, another cringe from Dipper, and everything faded back to monochrome to reveal a person, standing there amongst the trees and grinning casually.

“Bill?’ Dipper questioned, confusion crossing his face.

“That’s me!” they yelled, voice matching Bill’s perfectly. Huh. So apparently body switches didn’t affect the god’s ability to maintain a constant nasally and obnoxious voice. 

“How do I look?” he asked, turning around slowly for Dipper to observe. The pre-teen looked the god’s human-ish new form up and down, noting the absence of all colors that weren’t black, white, or gold. Perhaps Bill had gotten so used to the bland monochrome shades that his color sense had been impaired. 

Dipper shifted his focus from clothing to the god’s facial features. It was hard to think that the floating three-sided shape from a few minutes ago was now so startlingly human in appearance that it would have been almost impossible to distinguish him from a regular crowd, sans the glowing yellow eyes and sharp teeth.

Speaking of which, Dipper had to admit he was unsettled by their being there. If he ignored the whole deal with the outfit, then Bill could have passed as normal. Why he chose to add a bit of flare and include golden eyes and fangs (which reminded Dipper so much of vampires) was anyone’s guess.

“Well, it’s certainly…” a glance one more time at tanned olive skin and blonde locks. “Something.” Then, as an afterthought: “at least you're consistent with your color scheme.”

“Well, I’ll take that as an ‘it’s fantastic!’.” Bill stayed in the same place but wobbled around slightly, as though unused to the feeling of having legs that were made to walk on something. “I know it’s not perfect, of course, but I did my best to incorporate my own, personal flare in order to make up for it.” The god raised a shaky hand, pointing at his eyes and grinning. Then the finger lowered to his mouth, where perfect sharp white teeth were on display.

Dipper merely offered up a smile, chuckling nervously. Those incisors would take awhile to get used to.

“I mean, other than the obviously…” he spared a glance at the god’s teeth, “strange aspects you decided to include, it’s fine. You could almost pass for a human.”

Bill’s grin widened impossibly further. “Great! Exactly what I was hoping for.”

The god’s smile was infectious; Dipper found the corners of his lips twitching up in response to his statement.

“Though I must admit, your choice in clothing is a bit off.”

Bill raised an eyebrow. “Off?”

“I mean, most people don’t go around dressed like that.” Dipper gestured to the god’s extravagant outfit. 

The aforementioned god looked down at himself. To say Bill was dressed strangely would be an understatement, though Dipper supposed by Gravity Fall’s standards it could be considered normal.

Black slacks and sleek dress shoes (by far the two most normal things in the outfit), combined with a bright yellow vest, the lower half of which contained a brick pattern, somewhat reminiscent of Bill’s triangular form. Underneath the piece was a crisp white dress shirt—which would have looked normal if not for the eye-bleeding yellow of the vest. And, to top it all off, tight fit gloves that seemed very unnecessary

“You know what, never mind. It’s perfect.” Dipper finished.

He grabbed his backpack with one hand and pulled it off of his shoulders, releasing them from the burden of carrying weight. It hit the ground with a thud. Dipper dropped his flashlight and his journal, letting both of the objects rest by his backpack.

“So…” Dipper began hesitantly. “Why do you need a different body in the first place? I know you said it was because I was your friend, but still. I’m perfectly fine with you being all…” he struggled to find the right way to phrase it. “Triangular, and stuff.”

Bill shrugged, his golden eyes shutting for a brief moment. “I thought it would be easier showing you around Gravity Falls while wearing the facade of a meat-sack.” His eyes opened again, a bright contrast to the greyscale world around them. “There’s only so much a floating triangle can do.”

 _A floating triangle with limitless power in my dreams_ , Dipper thought.

At the thought of his dreams Dipper cringed, drawing back from Bill and crossing his arms, though his frustration was not directed at the god himself. That’s right: this was all a dream. In the real world Dipper was passed out on the ground in the middle of the forest, just waiting for a predator to come and eat him up (Bill had told him he would be safe, but that did not reassure him in the slightest).

Bill stared at him quizzically, tilting his head to the side in the same manner a cat would. “What is it, Pine Tree?”

Dipper sighed, shaking off the uneasy feeling. “Nothing.” He bit his lip. “I was just thinking about how this isn’t actually happening. I mean, in the real world at least.”

Bill flashed Dipper a lopsided grin, before staggering towards him, shoving one foot roughly in front of the other. “Don’t worry about it! I promised you would be safe.” The pre-teen flinched back out of instinct, trying to get away from the god who looked just about ready to fall over onto himself. “Don’t you trust me?” 

Dipper looked at him with uncertainty, and then nodded after a moment more of silence. Bill ceased movement, standing still but still wobbling slightly. “Great!”

The human watched him struggle to maintain balance, before finally deciding to speak up: “do you need any help?” he asked, already beginning to walk over to where Bill was currently standing.

Bill extended a hand, as if to stop Dipper from continuing any further. “Nope,” he said, confidence radiating in his voice. “I’ve got it.” The god lowly chuckled. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been in a vessel that walks on two legs. Even though it’s all in a dream, I have a bit of trouble getting used to it.”

“Oh.” The pre-teen said, albeit still being slightly confused. “Interesting.”

Bill gave a small hum of agreement, this time moving his arms up and down, getting the movements more accurate to those of a human than in his previous attempt.

“So…” Dipper started, un-crossing his arms. “What are we going to do? Like, look around the town and stuff?” the pre-teen did his best to conceal it, but the excitement in his voice betrayed any mask of indifference he might have put on.

The god made a finger gun at him, pointing and shooting. “Bingo! Today marks the first day of a magical and brand-new journey. A journey which happens to include you and me.”

“Yay?” Dipper said, more of a question than anything. “Where are we going?”

“That,” the god paused, as if to create some sort of suspense. “Will be kept a secret. Don’t worry about it, though,” he waved a hand dismissively, “you’ll find out soon enough.”

Dipper ignored the suspicion in the back of his head that insisted this was a bad idea. It wasn’t like he didn’t believe it (he had only known Bill for less than a day but already knew that anything involving the god was bound to be disastrous), it was that he had made a deal, and wanted the thing Bill had offered him: knowledge. The allure of wisdom was great, and almost impossible for Dipper to deny.

Bill extended a hand towards Dipper, who stared at it inquisitively. “Come on, Pine Tree, take my hand.”

It hardly required a moment’s worth of consideration; Dipper started forward, and took Bill’s hand graciously.

Then, the world shifted and changed around them, causing Dipper to pull back in surprise. He looked around, eyes wide in a mixture of both confusion and wonder. After regaining his bearings, he took time to observe his surroundings: a waterfall, a small pond at the bottom of it, fish diving in and out of the water. It was a beautiful setting. Dipper found himself wanting to take a picture.

The pre-teen had never discovered this part of Gravity Falls, and was amazed by the vast area of land in front of him that had gone unexplored. He had never read about this area, and if he did, it was long since buried in the back of his mind. 

Bill stepped forward, taking his place right next to Dipper and significantly less wobbly than before. “So,” the god’s glowing yellow eyes surveyed the area, cold and calculating. Dipper wondered if Bill was trying to figure out if he had made the right decision by bringing him there. “Do you like it?” he questioned, looking down at Dipper, smile gracing his face. “I thought that it would be a fine place to start, considering that there’s a great deal of things here.”

Dipper didn’t see much of anything besides trees and water, but decided to take Bill’s word for it. “Yeah,” he breathed out, his exhilaration showing in the way his cheeks flushed and his pupils dilated. “It’s fantastic.”

Bill grinned. “Good,” he said.

Dipper took a few steps forward, leaving Bill’s side and motioning to the waterfall, the main attraction of the place. “Where exactly in Gravity Falls is this? I’ve never seen or heard about it.”

“Yeah,” Bill began, catching up to Dipper and resuming position by his side. “There’s a reason for that.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow, in question, looking at the god expectantly.

Bill explained further: “it’s a dangerous area. And for that reason, not that many of you flesh-sacks come here.” He scoffed, “which is just stupid to me. The monsters aren’t _that_ dangerous.” Then, after a moment of consideration, “for the most part.”

The pre-teen couldn’t help but to laugh at that one, raising a pale hand to cover his mouth and stifle the giggles that came out. “For the most part?” he asked, though it was a rhetorical question. “What does that even mean?”

“They may or may not attack you depending on how they feel that particular day.”

Dipper bit back another laugh, and made a half-hearted attempt at comprehending everything. “So, what are ‘they’?”

“Grindylows.” Bill responded simply. “They drag tiny meat-sacks into the water when they get too close. I’ll spare you the details of what happens next, but it isn’t that hard to imagine.”

Dipper cringed, thinking about what exactly would ‘happen next’. Luckily enough for him, Bill didn’t elaborate more. “I think I’ve heard of them before…” he trailed off, distantly recalling reading an old and worn down textbook in the town library. “What do they look like, again?”

“Well, for starters, they have—actually, let me just show you.” Bill snapped, and a small creature popped into existence in front of them, swaddled by blue flames; Dipper flinched back in surprise.

“Oh my—what is that thing?” he asked, staring at it suspiciously.

Bill, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, merely regarding it with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Relax, Pine Tree. It’s not actually real, remember?” he tapped the side of his head, “just a dream. A dream which I have full control over, but a dream nonetheless.”

Dipper squinted, observing it closer. It was a tiny, scrawny being with the thinnest arms he had ever seen. However, unlike most creatures Dipper had seen, instead of a pair of legs it had many tentacles, twisting and contorting on the ground. It’s skin was a light grey, and its eyes glowed a dull green. It blinked owlishly at Dipper as he drew near, reaching a hand out to touch it.

If Bill didn’t want him to touch it, then he didn’t say anything, merely standing there and watching as the human boy made an attempt to pet it, as one would pet a dog. Dipper realized that it was a strange thing to do, but he knew that the grindylow could not hurt him since Bill was in control of it. 

His hand made contact with grey scales and he carefully withdrew, realizing quickly that he was not a fan of wet and sticky areas. Dipper mumbled a complaint about the texture before following it up with: “I don’t know what I was expecting, but that thing was way more disgusting than I was expecting.”

“Yeah,” Bill hummed in agreement, “that’s what scales tend to feel like.”

Dipper flushed from embarrassment and turned away, shifting his focus away from the god and back to the monster.

He looked up at Bill, and then over to the waterfall. “Is that were these things live? I would’ve thought they’d have preferred to live in a still body of water. Y’know, tentacles and all.”

“Grindylows will live in any place there is water.” Bill responded. “It doesn’t matter if it’s a pond, lake, river, or even a waterfall. They can adapt well, shall we say.” The god looked down at the creature before sneering, “gross little things they are. In my opinion the only thing they’re good for is their teeth.” Bill motioned to the small being and its mouth opened, revealing rows upon rows of sharp incisors. Dipper looked on in a mixture of fascination and horror, unable to prevent himself from imagining those thing biting down into his arm. “Casually fighting enemies and you need a quick way to piss them off? Throw one these guys at them and I can guarantee they’ll be screaming in seconds.”

Dipper snorted at Bill’s joke, raising a hand to stifle his chuckles, before lowering it to make a playful jab back at the god. “But _Bill_ ,” he whined. “I’ll never be able to get my hands on one of these and you know it! I mean, look at me,” Dipper looked down at himself, pouting slightly. “I’m human! Not to mention that I can barely lift ten pounds without any help.”

Bill raised an eyebrow, cleary amused. “Pine Tree, you’re human? I would have never guessed!” he rested his head on the pre-teen’s shoulder, the unexpected action eliciting a gasp from the younger male. “But if you really want, I can help you get one of these things for, ah, further research purposes.”

Dipper chortled out another breathy laugh, gently pushing the god’s head off of his shoulder. “Number one, the way you’re making it sound isn’t all that appealing.” Bill snorted, before adding in a small quip about how it was definitely appealing; Dipper ignored it for the most part, continuing on with his speech. “Number two, you can’t even interact with the psychical world, so how do you plan on getting me one?”

“Oh, I have my ways.” Bill said, in a tone that would imply that he was up to no good.

Dipper frowned, only half-serious. “Please don’t do anything drastic.”

“I won’t!” then, almost as if it were an afterthought, “I promise.”

“Good.” Dipper nodded in affirmative. He turned his gaze back to the grindylow, who had been standing (was it standing if it had tentacles?) patiently for the past couple of minutes in which he and Bill had been bantering. “So, what else is there to this place? Or is it just a nice looking waterfall and couple of particularly vicious creatures?”

“There’s more.” Bill said calmly, shortly thereafter removing the creature from Dipper’s dream with a snap of his fingers. The pre-teen blinked, not expecting its sudden dissapearance. 

“It would be nice if you could show me?” Dipper offered meekly.

“That is part of the deal.” Bill grinned, before walking over to the edge of pond that had formed as a result of the waterfall. Dipper had to significantly pick up his pace in order to catch up with the god. At Bill’s mention of the word ‘deal’, Dipper recalled everything that had transpired between them in the last twenty four hours. About how this whole thing started because he had decided to get caught by the worst group of monsters lurking in the woods. And then he made the deal with Bill, in exchange for knowledge, and… wait a minute. The agreement that the pre-teen had made with the god had absolutely nothing to do with his initial reason for summoning him; Dipper felt an urge to chastise himself for his own foolishness. 

In the beginning, it had been about saving his own life. After all, those monsters that had been chasing after him were relentless, and if he had held his silence for any longer they surely would have came it and eaten him alive (or worse). Dipper chose the safe route—the _only_ route. In his eyes, it was the god or certain death. He chose the god. 

But somehow they got off track.

Bill started smooth-talking him, making offers that he knew full well did not belong in a conversation about saving Dipper’s life. And Dipper let him. He let him talk, propose deals that were practically irresistible to the younger. Knowledge, adventure, the pursuit of something greater lurking in the woods of Gravity Falls. The pre-teen ate it up, always willing to learn something new. And if that something was irrelevant to his own survival then Dipper didn’t need to know.

He sighed, dragging a pale hand over his face and letting it rest on his forehead for a moment. Dipper didn’t make a deal to save his life; he made a deal that granted him wisdom. 

After catching up to Bill’s long strides, and pausing for a moment to catch his breath, Dipper looked over the water’s edge, unable to see the bottom of the pond. He angled his head towards Bill, staring at him inquisitively. “So, what’s in here? The ‘Fountain of Youth’, or something?” 

“Nope,” the god said, still staring down at the pond. “It’s something much better, kid.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow in scepticism. “Really? Not much else I can think of that’s better than the Fountain of Youth.” Bill chuckled, and snapped his fingers, resulting in the water in front of the pair parting, a small trapdoor becoming visible at the bottom of the pond.

“Is that what I think that is?” Dipper asked, squinting at it. The trapdoor itself wasn’t all that extravagant, but the implications of it being there were startling to the pre-teen. What purpose did it even have at the bottom of a pond? Whoever was using it must have had a lot of secrets to hide. He turned to look at Bill, his face a mixture of confusion and excitement. “Does it lead to something?”

Bill gave an affirmative nod of his head. “Of course it does. And yes, while this whole thing isn’t even happening, and is in your dreams, that doesn’t mean you can’t use that knowledge in the real world.” He paused, inhaling a breath Dipper had a suspicion he didn’t need. “When you wake up, feel free to come down here.” The god chuckled, “that is, if you can part the water like Moses. But I’m sure you’ll figure out a way eventually.”

Dipper frowned at Bill. “Can’t you just tell me?”

“Oh, tsk, tsk, Pine Tree.” He began, taking a step into the dry land that had resulted in between the separated waters. “Don’t you know that if I spoil it for you that would ruin all the fun?”

“Please?” Dipper crossed his arms.

“Hey, I offered you knowledge, but not all knowledge. Am I wrong?”

Dipper huffed out a dry “no”, and followed after Bill hesitantly, scared that the water would collapse in on them at any moment, despite the fact that he knew it was all a dream.

Bill snapped his fingers once more, and the trapdoor sprung open. Dipper could hardly see what lied below it, both because of the time of day and the fact that it was just dark down there. The god extended a hand to him in offering.

Dipper accepted the God’s hand, taking it within his own. Slowly, Bill pulled them down the stairs, taking slow steps as to make sure the pre-teen didn’t slip.

He sniffed, smelling what seemed to be worn out pages of leather books, maybe a few other things too. “What’s down here, anyway?”

Bill didn’t say anything in response. Suddenly, the place was lit up, dozens of blue flames sparking to life from the various candles that littered the shelves and desks.

A library; or perhaps, a study.

“Holy…” Dipper brought a hand to his mouth, looking at Bill in shock. “Where did you bring me?”

“I figured we might need a place to meet.” Bill answered simply. “Call it a hang out spot,” he shrugged.

“But it’s so—” he cut himself off, unsure what to say to highlight the magnificence of the room. 

Perhaps it was because of the grandeur of the space, or perhaps it was because his brain had had an information overload within the past twenty-four hours, but Dipper felt the urge, strong and most certainly _there_ , to hug Bill (impulse, he had deduced. A natural reaction when one received a gift of great value to them).

Dipper dutifully ignored it, and continued on in observing the objects around him.

In one corner, there was a fancifully carved desk, complete with burning blue candles to light up whatever he decided to put on it. The chair lying in front of it seemed made for a god to sit on, with the plush red cushions and all. There were shelves upon shelves of dark mahogany that lined the walls, the books contained within them appearing to be ancient, and if not that, just old. A fireplace, in the center of the wall adjacent to the desk, two small armchairs placed next to it. Carpets, and paintings, and oh God, it was simply gorgeous.

“I, um… I don’t what to say, honestly.” Dipper took a few steps forward, to take a closer look at everything. “And this—all of this is in the real world, right?”

“Yup,” Bill responded. “As it turns out, a couple of researchers set up shop here about… oh, last century? They’re not around any more, per say, but as you can see, they weren’t in a haste to leave! Barely took anything with them.” Then, in a quieter tone: “didn’t have the _chance_ to take anything with them.”

Dipper turned around, grin plastered onto his face. 

“Which leaves this place all to us.” Bill finished. He spread his arms, expectantly. 

The pre-teen sighed, in a manner that would imply unwillingness, but advanced towards Bill, and into his waiting arms. 

The hug was warmer, and definitely more pleasant than he had been expecting. It wasn’t at all like the crushing hugs he had received from Mabel, or even Grunkle Stan. It was pleasant in a way that was inherently _good_ , and it left Dipper craving more of the warm embrace in a way that he never had before. Bill tightened his arms around the pre-teen, much to Dipper's surprise, and it created a sense of intimacy that he was very unused to.

To Dipper, it was over before it even started; Bill pulled away, removing himself from Dipper and putting the arms that had been so tightly wrapped around him back by his sides.

The pre-teen coughed awkwardly.

If Bill noticed, he didn’t say anything. 

“So, is this like, the meeting spot from now on?” Dipper asked, sparing another glance at the extravagant furniture that littered the room. “It’s nice, and I like it, but you still haven’t told me how to get here, and how to get _in_ here.” 

“Like I said before, kid. It’ll all come to you soon.”

“That’s very cryptic. And also not helpful.” Dipper countered.

“What’re you going to do about it, Pine Tree?” 

Dipper couldn’t think of anything good to retaliate with, so he decided that silence was the best answer.

He stepped forward, already reaching out to grab one of the books that had been put inside of the shelves, and squinting at what had been inscribed into the spine. “The Odyssey”, it read. Dipper pulled it out for further inspection.

“Old books—?” he cut himself off with a gasp of surprise. And then, defeatedly, a sigh. “You scared me.”

Bill was triangular again, and looking as smug as ever. Well, however smug a triangle could look.

“It was on purpose! Get used to it kid, I’ll be doing that a lot.” 

Dipper didn’t much see the point in doing that other than to piss him off; why would a god need to shift forms, anyway? He sighed, again, and pointed to the copy of “The Odyssey” in his hands. 

“Old books?” he questioned, meeker this time. 

“Yup. All sorts of em’.” The god floated over to where Dipper was standing, looking over all of the books on the shelves. “‘The Republic’, ‘Beowulf’, ‘The Epic of Gilgamesh’, ‘The Song of Roland’, ‘The Canterbury Tales’, ‘The Iliad’, and, of course: ‘Romeo and Juliet.” Bill finished. “Quite the collection, don’t you agree?”

Dipper nodded, only able to blink numbly at all of the information that had been thrown at him. “So, like, what now? We just hang out? Talk about life?”

The god appeared to be amused by Dipper’s idea about what hanging out with him would be like. “Actually, kid,” Bill brought up a small hand up to his eye, and looked down at an invisible watch. “If I’m correct, it’s about time you go. Your family might be worried about you!”

“I’m sure I have time left. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long…” he frowned, and then Bill pointed at his own wrist, which now magically had a watch on it.

“Says here it’s… 5:21.” Dipper’s eyes widened, and he rushed over to Bill’s side, looking down at the watch. He mumbled out a rather profane expletive, and the god laughed in that annoyed, condescending way of his.

“Wake me up?” Dipper asked, the faintest of whines in his voice.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question you—” he stopped himself. “Please?”

Bill just looked at him.

Dipper awoke, lying on his back and staring up at the morning sky. It wasn’t so dark that he couldn’t see, but was by no means light out. Around maybe… 5:30?

He sat up, and was going to make a snide remark to himself about how Bill was an idiot, but gasped at the sight in front of him. The same waterfall, the same pond as the god had shown him (later he would worry about how he got there in the first place)—but that wasn’t what surprised him.

Still as death, only a few feet away from him, was a grindylow, eyes cold and unfeeling. Or, let Dipper rephrase that: a _dead_ grindylow.

The pre-teen scampered backwards, hands scrabbling at and surface they could find so as to propel him away from the lifeless corpse. 

For a moment, his mind struggled to find a reason why one of the wretched things had died. At first he thought it was because it had flopped out of the water and beached itself, and then he had thought that another creature had attacked it, and then he had the sudden realization of: _Bill_.

The quick words from earlier, that he had brushed off as a joke, struck him as more than that in that moment, when he was sitting only a few feet away from a corpse. “ _But if you really want, I can help you get one of these things for, ah, further research purposes._ ”

Dipper blanched. So the god wasn’t joking, after all.

He wondered how the god had managed it. It was all he could think about in those woods, looking down with disgust at the still body. 

It seemed almost certain that Bill had used him as a means to kill it, being that he had had the tendency to make his body do things when he was sleeping (i.e. sleepwalking home in the middle of the night). However, the thought was gone almost as soon as it came, since there was no trace of blood or the creature’s slime on him.

Dipper rolled over, onto his stomach, before pushing himself up and onto his feet. He looked around breathless, wary of even the slightest noise that echoed throughout the lonesome forest.

One of his hands shot down, picking up his bag with haste and slinging it over his shoulders. The boy cast another glance towards the body, before having to look away. It wasn’t like Dipper hadn’t seen animals before. He had—plenty of times, actually. Biology class, roadkill, the occasional woodland creature that had fallen prey to some larger, and much stronger predator. Yet somehow this felt different. Dipper settled on the idea that this particular incident was unexpected, causing his dramatic response. Yes, that made sense; he had woken up and seen a dead thing lying only a few feet away from him. Of course he would be surprised.

In any case, Dipper didn’t want to look at it anymore, and above all didn’t want to think about why Bill had thought that giving him a dead grindylow was a good idea.

Getting back home was easy, given that the sun was now rising and casting a warm glow over the large expanse of the forest. Once Dipper had remembered that he had a compass in his backpack, he pulled it out and made a beeline in the direction that he knew for a fact his house was in.

It was the ‘don’t freak out Dipper because Bill actually murdered something for you, oh my God’ part which was hard to deal with. Staying focused and not tripping over every little thing that came into your path was hard when it turned out that your sort-of-acquaintance was a bit more homicidal than you had initially thought. Or did the god just not have a concept of what was acceptable to humans? No, he must have. There was no way an literal _god_ didn’t know that humans didn’t like it when things died. So Bill either did it because he didn’t care, or… well, that was really the only thing Dipper could think of.

He opened and closed the front door of his house in record speeds, shoving himself inside and completely disregarding the fact that he was probably making so much noise it would wake up all the local wildlife and fauna. 

Soon, he bolted up the stairs, making a desperate bid to get in his room as quickly as possible so that Mabel wouldn’t wake up because of the sunlight and start questioning him.

Halfway up, and he crumpled to the floor, letting out a startled yelp of pain. He looked down, cringing at his leg, wondering if he had somehow managed to cut it while walking through the forest. It didn’t seem all that unlikely given his predisposition for getting hurt. And there it was, a torn piece of his pant leg, the flesh underneath looking red and swollen. He would have to take a look at that later. Dipper bit his lip; regardless of how much it hurt, he had to keep going.

On second floor now. Okay, so he was making progress, just open the door to their room and—

Too late; Mabel stood there, arms crossed, and stared at him with an expression that was in equal parts curiosity and worry. 

“Hi”, he said, in a lame greeting.

“Dipper,” she replied back.

Oh, that was bad; Mabel never used his first name in that tone.

“Well, um,” he began, unsure how to excuse himself when he had been caught red-handed. “I can explain?”

“Have you been sneaking out again?” okay, so clearly she wasn’t going to buy any of what he said.

“Ah, funny thing that is…” he tripped over his words. Then, with an exaggerated palm to the face, he continued: “it’s stupid, but I thought that maybe… maybe I could get rid of my fear of the forest—actually, the _dark_ forest in particular. But,” he looked up at her bashufully, “clearly that didn’t work.” 

Mabel looked at him, unimpressed, before sighing. “I don’t like to play the bad sister, and I know you didn’t mean anything when you did it, but Dipper, _please_ don’t sneak out without letting me know. I don’t show it a lot, but I worry about you getting yourself in trouble.” Dipper saw the tears threatening to spill in her eyes, and he immediately felt a rush of guilt. God, he was a terrible brother.

“Sorry?” he offered, an apology which he hoped would fix the situation, but knew would be ineffective against Mabel.

Her eyes softened, and a smile steadily grew on her face. “Awkward sibling hug?” 

Dipper nodded, and they walked towards each other at the same time, before eventually falling into a tight embrace. “Pat, pat.” They repeated in unison.

The hug lasted for only a few more seconds, before Mabel pulled away, and smiled at him in the Mabel sort of way that she always did. “Promise not to do anything stupid?”

Dipper swallowed. “Promise,” he breathed out.

“Good,” she said, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. “Let’s just… go to sleep alright? I’ll pretend this never happened.” She looked at him. “For you.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I’m, um, going to use the bathroom.”

“You do that, Bro-Bro,” Mabel walked away and let out a yawn, before crawling back beneath her sheets. 

Dipper walked into the bathroom, backpack still in tow. He hastily shut the door behind him, dropped the bag, and stepped over to the toilet, placing a leg on the cover for further inspection. Then, looking down, that was when he finally saw them: an array of purple bruises and deep cuts littering his legs, stinging slightly upon touch. He gingerly touched them with the pads of his fingers, feeling the dried blood and the shredded skin. 

Dipper bit back a hiss, before reaching over to the medicine cabinet and pulling out the bottle of rubbing alcohol. Then, after a moment of searching, he grabbed a few cotton balls along with it. After soaking them with the spirit, it was only a matter of not freaking out at the harsh sting of alcohol against skin.

So apparently the god could kill things in the real world but couldn’t heal up wounds. Great. Just what he needed. 

Dipper finished quickly. He would rather not spend too much time disinfecting his wounds (that he had already rubbed with the solution about ten-times over) when he could be getting precious sleep and resting his weary limbs. Dipper wasn’t a scientist, but he knew that if he didn’t get a decent amount of rest then eventually exhaustion would take over and he would pass out. If Bill were there he would probably make a comment about how human bodies were so fragile and useless. Then Dipper would laugh. And Christ, just the thought of having to deal with the god again was giving him a headache.

Which was why he needed sleep. Desperately.

After applying about five more coats of the rubbing alcohol to his cuts (always good to be thorough), Dipper put the aid supplies back in the medicine cabinet and began to shrug off all of the accessories on his body.

Last night—technically this morning—he had gone to sleep wearing virtually everything that he had worn while exploring the woods, and running away from monsters, and making a deal with Bill, and pretty much all of the other stupid things he had done. He was so tired that at the moment it just didn’t seem worthwhile to remove all of his clothes, especially when they were so comfy.

Slowly, he removed his signature hat; the very same hat which had coined him the nickname “Pine Tree”. Next, of course, the scarf, which he set on the counter. And lastly, the peacoat, which he removed with care and gently folded, placing it neatly the closet shelf to be used on a later date.

Dipper looked down at himself, and then up at the mirror, noting the torn pajamas. Honestly, he wasn’t even going to bother to change out of them. They were still wearable, and he didn’t feel like going out and grabbing new clothes from his dresser. What was the saying? “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”? Well, Dipper intended on following that advice; the pajamas were still wearable.

He opened the bathroom, twisting the golden knob, before stumbling over to his bed and promptly collapsing onto it. He faintly heard Mabel snicker, but decided to ignore it. 

And so, sleep encompassed him. 

But this was Dipper Pines; it would be insane to think that he could get any actual rest.

“Human bodies are so fragile and useless!” at least he was right about what Bill would say were he to show up.

“Bill,” he greeted, unenthusiastically. 

Dipper sat up in bed, and let out a long sigh, before bringing up both of his hands to rub at sleepy eyes. He pointedly looked at Bill, who merely blinked at him in his triangular form.

“Heya kid, did you miss me?”

“No,” he groaned, “I saw you half an hour ago. Do you really think I’m that clingy?”

“Not necessarily. But I sure do know that I am,” Bill said cheekily, as though to poke fun at Dipper.

The pre-teen threw a glare in the god’s direction, before throwing the covers back over himself and lying down, facing the wall. 

“Oh, don’t play coy with me. Didn’t you enjoy our little chat?” Dipper rolled his eyes, but was stubborn, refusing to turn around and acknowledge Bill. “Especially the present. Tell me, Pine Tree, was it a nice surprise? I was expecting you to be a tad bit more happy about it, but oh, what do I know about humans?”

“The quality of the gift is debatable,” Dipper finally said. “But I think what I would enjoy the most right now is some peace and quiet, away from you?”

Bill made a sound which sounded like a snort, and appeared directly in front of Dipper, partly phasing through the wall, staring him down with his single eye. He simply rolled onto his other side, choosing to look in the direction where Mabel lay, sleeping comfortably and blissfully unaware of his and the god’s conversation. “Shame on you, kid. No way you’re getting rid of me that easily. After all, I happen to specialize in dreams.” 

Dipper closed his eyes; Bill snickered from behind him.

“Alright, I get it, I get it. You don’t want me around.” There was a glowing yellow light that appeared towards his front, and Dipper could tell that the god had taken up position only a few inches away from his face. “But the thing is, kiddo,” 

Dipper was pulled from the bed roughly by an invisible hand, thrown to the ground, along with the blankets that he was still swaddled in, with a harsh thud. He looked up at Bill uneasily, unable to contain the primal cry of fear that had escaped him. 

“I want you around.” The god finished.

Dipper looked to the side with a huff, before finally addressing Bill. “Dude, I know that already. Sort of. But I need some time for myself. As in, sleep time for myself. Y’know the whole charade: peaceful dreams, bunnies in meadows, unicorns in fields.” Bill stared at him blankly. “Look, all what I want is some time to myself. And, seeing as you are determined to somehow be in all of my dreams, it appears as though that is time you are not willing to give me.”

“You want happy dreams?”

“More than that," he started, grabbing all of the messed blankets and crawling up onto the bed. "I want preferably less monster corpses left as… gifts for me. I don’t know how it works for gods, but us humans don’t appreciate death and destruction.” He breathed in, eyes still closed in a desperate bid to not give the god the satisfaction that he desired. 

“What,” Bill started, indignation clear in his tone. “You didn’t like my present? I thought a grindylow would be perfect for you! I mean, does it _really_ have to be alive? Seems like more of an inconvenience, to me.”

“I don’t care if you give me dead monsters or not,” Dipper snapped. Then, after a careful moment of reconsideration of how Bill would perceive that statement, “okay, I care a little, but that’s not the point. All of this is just…” he struggled to come up with the right words, though they were on the tip of his tongue. “Overwhelming.”

Finally, he opened his eyes, making an attempt at meeting Bill’s sole eye with bravery; that idea, however, was abandoned quickly and Dipper soon found his gaze darting all over the room. “Less than twenty four hours ago, I made a deal with you, and you are being… you. Then, I go to sleep, you won’t leave me alone, and when I do finally get an ounce of rest, it’s nightmares. I wake up, and the cycle continues.” He rolled onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes. “A break, Bill. I want a break.”

“Well you could have been blunt about it.” Bill finally interjected.

“Dude, the only reason I actually paid attention to you this morning and _visited_ , if that’s what you want to call it, was because I had the time, and I was excited, and the full reality of the situation hadn’t hit me yet—but then, back at the pond…” he trailed off, recalling his own thoughts from the time. “I sort of feel swindled, if that makes any sense. Back when we first made this deal of ours, I wanted your help to survive. And what did you do? You smooth-talked me until I made a deal that had literally nothing to do with my survival. Is that how you make your deals around here?”

Dipper felt a flicker of irritation from Bill. “Watch it there, Pine Tree. You’re treading a very fine line.” 

The pre-teen mumbled out a meager apology and finally shifted his arm, so that he could look at Bill from the corner of his eye. “I know. I just… sleep, please?”

Bill seemed unsatisfied, and for once Dipper could understand why. He sighed, more of a groan than anything, and steeled himself. “What do you want?”

“What…?” the god asked, in a manner that practically begged Dipper to continue; this time he couldn’t stifle the snort at his obviousness.

“What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone when I want to go to sleep?—and no, I know what you’re thinking, but there shall be no deals involved.” Bill appeared to be slightly disappointed by that one, so Dipper continued. “Want me to visit you more or something? I can certainly try to do that.”

“While the offer is tempting, I’m afraid that’s nowhere near enough to satiate me.”

Dipper looked at him, one eyebrow raised in questioning. “What are you suggesting?”

“Oh, y’know, nothing major. Just a small…” the god’s eye turned blue, and his hand burst alive with cerulean flame. Dipper jumped back, still not used to seeing them. “Favor?”

He gulped. “Whatever favor you have in mind, it definitely doesn’t sound like it would benefit me. Like, at all.” Then, after a nervous glance back down at Bill’s hand, “and can you please make a conscious effort not to use fire whenever you want to emphasize a point? There are other, more peaceful ways of doing so.” Bill’s eye returned to normal, and the flame flickered down into nothing.

“No, I think I’ll keep doing this.” Bill countered. “It won’t be an entirely new deal, but more of a… footnote on the contract.”

“And what, if I may ask, exactly is that footnote?”

“It benefits us both. I get to spend a little time in your body, in the _real_ world, and in exchange, you get even more clues as to the mystery that is Gravity Falls.”

“Possession?” Dipper’s brows furrowed in confusion. “So you enter my body, and do what with it? Don’t see how that really helps me here.”

“I take notes. Write down all the things that I know. Which is to say, a lot.” 

“Still lost.” Dipper added in, unable to prevent a note of snark from entering his tone. He shifted in bed, until he was sitting up, looking at Bill in a deadpan sort of way. “So what I’m getting here is that you possess my body,” the god hummed in agreement, “and then just… use it to, what, scribble down some tips and tricks for becoming a better adventurer?”

Bill made a finger gun with the digits on his right hand, pointing it straight at Dipper and then making a firing motion. “Bingo! I promise that I’ll only do it while you’re asleep.”

“The plot thickens,” Dipper mumbled, bringing a hand up to rest over his forehead in an over exaggerated and dainty manner, gently rubbing circles into the flesh in an effort to soothe himself. “As an added bonus, I get a god that will walk around with my body while I sleep. A god who has proven himself entirely willing to commit murder.” He removed his hand, instead opting to stare, unimpressed, at the buoyant entity. “I think you’re real charming Bill, but I’m going to have to say ‘no deal’.”

“Don’t fool yourself into thinking that was a request,” Bill drawled, now sitting (floating, but Dipper found no other apt way to describe it) in a relaxed position, drifting around lazily, only centimeters away from the pre-teen’s head.

Dipper stared at him, confusion written all over his face. “Sorry, I didn’t quite—”

“Nope. Not a request. Sorry Pine Tree, but that footnote has now been stamped proudly smackdab in the center of the contract,” the god produced the aforementioned contract, which apparated from within a pyre of blue flames. True to his word, there were black words inked into the paper, largely stating: 

“POSSESSION ALLOWED.”

Dipper squinted, still trying to process exactly what all of it meant. He looked up at Bill, who, instead of just laughing and gloatingly announcing his victory, was holding out a pen in offering to the boy. “What do you want me to do with this?” he inquired.

“Sign here,” Bill pointed to a spot on the contract with a hand that had manifested from his back, attached to a long and spindly black arm. Dipper was going to question it, but was forced into silence as Bill shoved the writing utensil into his hand. “And here,” the god finished, the pointer finger of the extra appendage moving over to land on another dotted black line. 

“Wh—” he stuttered, “what? What am I even signing?”

“Oh, y’know, this and that. No big deal, an add-on to the contract.” Bill reached out to place the now-available, penless hand over Dipper’s, almost as if instructing him on how to write his signature.

“Wait, like the sort of add-on you were talking about earlier? But I don’t want—”

“Oh, hush now, Pine Tree. C’mon, sign it, sign it.” He pressed his hand into the skin on Dipper’s flesh, pressing down, urging him to scribe his name. Surprisingly enough, Bill’s hand wasn’t at all like he expected it to be; it was smooth, almost like plastic, and if he paid enough attention (which was hard, in his current, befuddled state) to the way human tissue met its godly counterpart, he could almost feel the way it drew him in, as if nothing were there at all, and he were simply waving a hand through through air. 

The pre-teen was taken from his thoughts as a harder, insistent push was delivered to his hand. “Stop that!” he snapped, doing his best to not throw out as many swears as he could. Out of sheer confusion, and desperation, because Bill was practically yelling in his ear now, Dipper signed it, hand scribbling out his name in a clean, familiar motion.

Bill finally stopped his screaming, plucking the contract from Dipper’s hands and observing it calmly. Dipper bristled in his bed, thoughts all over the place as he hurriedly tried to recollect what had just transpired.

“Good,” Bill simpered, and Dipper just _knew_ , despite the fact that the god had no mouth in his triangular form, that he was flashing him a shark-like grin. Dupper huffed out a breath of indignation, ready to throw some words of insult towards the self-satisfied, floating being; he opened his mouth, lips already tugging downwards, and was going to—

“But you should have read the fine print.”

The god disappeared in an azure puff of smoke and Dipper was left gaping, still partly in shock, as the world felt color again and agonizing, unfiltered sunlight flooded in through the window.

He cringed, unprepared for the sudden and most certainly unwanted intrusion of light into the room, before flopping onto the bed, back hitting the mattress with a thud that he hoped Mabel nor Grunkle Stan heard. Now he was paranoid. Great.

The pre-teen groaned, shoving a pillow into his face and letting out his frustrations, and equally as present confusions. He swore that he was going to give the god a verbal beating the next time they met; oh, he was never going to hear the end of it.

With that lovely thought in mind (because now Dipper had the rest of the day to come up with ways to roast Bill into non-existence), he smiled grimly, planning his most exquisite torture. Well, that _was_ , if he could manage to not get killed during yet another hard and laborious day of working at the Mystery Shack.

But work was work, and there was no way that Stan would let him off the hook, _especially_ if he was exhausted. He couldn’t let his underage employees be getting any rest, now could he? Dipper could go on a tangent about his great-uncle's poor management skills all day.

He pulled the covers up to his chin, and snorted; any God in heaven surely pitied the twins for having such an employee as Stanford Pines.

Dipper sighed, rolling his eyes, and fell into a numb, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens!
> 
> Oh man, that was one hell of a ride, wasn't it? Nah, I'm just kidding, that chapter was probably very mundane. At this point I need to ego-boost myself because this fic has drained my heart and soul of any and all self-confidence. 
> 
> In any case, I suppose I shall leave you lovely readers to dwell on what you just read, so I make my leave! I will see you guys next month, unless I tragically die and cannot continue to update this fic. Ugh, now I'm all worried that I really am going to die and never be able to continue this fic... ah, now I know the true suffering of a writer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn that Dipper is more tired than he lets on and Bill is all too happy to watch him burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [monthly updates] (exception listed at end)
> 
> This chapter reflects my mood and I'm sorry for that. I'm also sorry to announce that unalike the other chapters, this one is only 8,000 words. This month has been rough. Really rough. In between a lack of motivation and depression in general writing this boring af chapter made me want to give up on this entirely. But I didn't. Just for you guys.
> 
> So I'm (not really) proud to present Chapter 3 in its purest form: unedited, unbetaed, and pretty much the equivalent of a 5th grader's poorly written English essay. Nothing much happens in this chapter other than some more background and the beginnings of Dipper's descent into... well, that's sort of a spoiler (if the tags didn't give away enough already).
> 
> Without further ado, here you go. Hope you enjoy this... wonderful, work of art.

There was a gentle sway to the trees. It was hardly noticeable, the way the breeze sifted through their lengthy pine needles and ruffled the grass ever so slightly. Squirrels and other small fauna scampered up trees, eyes darting around in efforts to find food for their young. Sunlight glisten off of fur, and shallow pools of water reflected beauty back up at the sky.

Dipper shifted, blinking wearily. The first thing that caught his attention was the sheer warmth radiating from the burning hot orb above him. Almost immediately did he fling an arm over his eyes, trying to shield them from the near blinding light.

A crow landed on the ground a few feet away from him, chirping innocently and seemingly unaware of the danger he as a human posed. It pecked at the dirt, probably looking for worms or something of the like. Dipper shifted his arm just slightly so that he could look at it, and frowned, shooing it away with a swat of his hand. The small creature was resolute in its adamancy to stay put, but after Dipper’s persistent attempts at coercing it into moving, it eventually squawked and flapped its wings awkwardly, backing away in fright. 

Dipper groaned and rolled onto his stomach, trying to push himself up onto his arms. His fingers dug into the rich soil, dirt underneath his fingernails and scratches lining the curves of his hand. It only proved to be a fruitless endeavor. With little grace, he fell back down into the wiry grass, bent thin by the multiple woodland animals that passed through the field.

Dipper felt exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally. It was like he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all, despite the fact that he knew for sure he had passed out last night in the comfort of his own bed.

The crow from only moments before landed with a loud croon on the ground next to his head. He blinked up at it miserably, but didn’t bother trying to bat it away. It blinked owlishly at him, cold eyes revealing a morbid curiosity.

This was normal.

Dipper couldn’t place a timestamp on when exactly he started waking up away from home, but he knew for sure that it had at least been a week since the first incident.

Of course, there had been panic (that was normal when you were stranded in the middle of a forest). Dipper feared that he had been kidnapped, or had been dumped in the middle of nowhere, left for dead, but quickly came to the conclusion that those were highly unlikely scenarios, being that he had the watchful omnipresent eye of a god looming over him at all times.

So he discarded the idea of abandonment entirely. Which left two distinct possibilities: he had been frequently sleepwalking, and travelled into the forest as a subconscious reaction to Bill’s presence in his mind—or it was Bill himself doing this. Both seemed equally as plausible, but he didn’t bother dwelling on it because of just how enervated he was from the physical overexertion of his body.

That had been a week ago.

Dipper, to say the least, was not please with the sudden development and subsequent deterioration of his sleep schedule. He was more irritable; grumpy; times he spent with his sister were more them arguing about the disappearing acts he would pull at nighttime and less them actually being _siblings_ and having fun.

Nowadays it was all just Bill. It was just the god, and his obnoxiously large smile, glowing eyes, perplexing sense of fashion and eccentric personality. Dipper couldn’t see him at all times, being that he didn’t have a solid physical form, but he _knew_ he was there. A blur in the corner of his vision or a dream about floating triangles with top hats, he was _there_ —and that alone was enough for Dipper to be contented with the fact that he wasn’t going insane.

For as long as Bill remained the only constant in Dipper’s life (the only thing that wasn’t ever-changing, shifting without him even realizing), the pre-teen could tolerate the lies and the deception that surrounded the god.

Bill could be as despicable as he wanted, could keep delivering his grotesque ‘gifts’ and Dipper wouldn’t flinch. If he couldn’t rely on his own family for consistency then Bill was the next best thing. He was eternal. He wouldn’t die. He would keep being him for the rest of time and beyond that.

Dipper couldn’t help but to admire him for it, even though he knew that the source of his expenditure was the god himself.

The pre-teen finally collected himself, steeling his body for the oncoming pain that would be brought on from the movement of sore limbs. Dipper winced; it hurt. Regardless he pushed onwards, managing to get his lithe figure to do something other than cry in protest.

He rested on his knees, breathing heavily, and was at active risk of collapsing back into the ground because of the shivering unsteadiness of his arms. Dipper cursed and then sighed at his own inertness. The drained pre-teen rubbed a hand over his face, trying to lessen the oncoming headache that threatened to inflict more anguish on his body.

The crow trilled next to him, voice shrill and most certainly migraine-inducing. Its black wings fluttered. 

“Hey,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Out of all of the things he had done to irk it, it seemed most unsettled by this, jumping backwards on skinny legs and barking at him harshly. Dipper cringed as it only served to worsen the headache.

The pre-teen wanted to come back with a retort at its incessant crowing, but a bolt of pain straight to his frontal lobe made him do no such thing. Dipper pressed his fingers into the invisible knot on his forehead, making a desperate (albeit useless) attempt at easing his pain.

Bill was going to suffer for this one.

Dipper sat there in the field for an indefinite amount of time, his only companions a crow and a migraine. Eventually something began to stir within him as panic bit at the back of his mind. What had Bill done while he had been asleep? The god had told him that he was going to take control over his body while he had slept (approximate words being: _I get to spend a little time in your body, in the real world, and you get more clues as to the mystery that is Gravity Falls._ ), in exchange for some extra knowledge. He hadn’t been very specific about what that actually entailed, but Dipper was far too sleep deprived and confused during the whole deal making process so he couldn’t tell if that was because Bill was intentionally dodging his questions or if he had zoned out while Bill explained more about the contract. Either way, it didn’t work out in his favor, considering that he was stranded in the middle of the field and his journal was nowhere to be found. His journal.

Dipper shot up from his place on the ground, ignoring the protests of his aching limbs. He pulled at a fistful of his own hair in aggravation and disappointment; it was midday. The sun was out. He had been gone all night. The crow made an awful sound in the back of its throat and finally flew away, apparently disgruntled by Dipper’s panicked state. 

The pre-teen looked around the grass at his feet, urgently scanning the floor with an increasing sense of dread. In his daze, he hadn’t even noticed the time, the _time_. The sun was in the air, shining down on him. It was at its highest point. Mabel, Grunkle Stan—they were probably looking for him now. 

Dipper dropped to the ground, running his hands over every patch of land available in a desperate bid to find his journal. Where had Bill put it? It couldn’t have gone far. The god wouldn’t have let all of the information contained within those pages disappear like that.

Dipper let out a huff of indignation just at the thought of such a thing, and continued his search with a frightening fervor. Hands scrambled desperately as sweat dripped from his forehead to his cheek. He felt disgusted but he needed to continue, or else—

There. There it was. He clutched it to his chest, nervous fingers pulling at the leather bound book. Dipper felt tremendous relief at the revelation that no, his journal was not in fact gone, and that no one had tampered with it (for anyone that read through it would surely think that he was insane), but that was soon replaced by another wave of panic. 

He had to go home. At his current rate Dipper would never be allowed to leave the Shack again. Leaving unannounced was bad enough, but leaving unannounced and getting caught was worse. Grunkle Stan would make him work overtime for weeks.

Dipper became frustrated with himself for reasons that he wasn't quite sure of. Maybe it was because he had made the deal with Bill in the first place or maybe it was because he had let this happen to him.

The pre-teen pushed himself onto his feet. There was no time for moping about what had already been done. If he didn’t return home soon he would be facing the equal wrath of Mabel and Stan (if he wasn’t going to already). 

The only problem was that he didn’t know where to go.

His backpack was gone, as well as his compass, so locating the Shack using those means was impossible. He had never been in this location before, which meant that navigating his way home by means of reading the terrain would be hopeless toil. He hated having to resort to _this_ method (especially since he was still mad at the god), but there were no other options.

When in doubt, just call: “Bill Cipher.”

Bill appeared before Dipper even had the chance to blink. The world went greyscale, sun fading to a dull glow, and Bill had an irksome grin on his face at the look of ashamedness on the pre-teen’s face.

“Hello there, Pine Tree. How’s it going?” he asked. Dipper had a feeling the god already knew the answer to that question, but refrained from saying anything he might regret later.

“Bad,” Dipper grumbled out. “Obviously.” 

Bill’s lips twisted into a mock frown. “I couldn’t tell! Is it the sleep deprivation or the fact that you’re stranded in the middle of the forest with no way home? Oh, wait, wait. Let me guess… I’m going to say both!” the god yelled, cheerful despite the bleakness of the subject at hand. “Am I right? Or am I right?”

Dipper stifled a snide remark, mood greatly soured by the god’s nonchalant attitude. “Right. Sort of.” He meekly responded. “I just… look, can I get help or what?”

The god appeared to be affronted by Dipper’s question. “No please?”

“Please!” Dipper practically shouted, growing heated at Bill’s refusal to directly answer his question. “You’re the one who got me into this mess!” 

“Careful of your tone,” Bill said cool. “Don’t forget just whom you’re speaking to.”

Dipper’s hands clenched into fists, but he reluctantly complied, still fearful despite his anger at Bill’s barely concealed threat.

“Sorry,” he mumbled out in a half-hearted apology. “But I think it’s about time I got home. My family is probably really worried, and I can’t stay out in this heat forever.”

Dipper’s mention of his family only seemed to make Bill’s mood plummet through the ground. The god sneered, and Dipper watched with alarmed eyes. “Oh, what do they care about you being gone? They hardly even noticed.”

“W-what?” Dipper asked, deeply confused.

“Stanle-Stanford wants a more attentive employ. Mabel wants a brother who isn’t sneaking around all the time. Soos, _Wendy_ , they both think you’re useless but they don’t say anything in fear of hurting your feelings.”

“That’s not… true at all.” Dipper swallowed the lump in his throat, hardly able to speak because of the emotions bubbling and overflowing within him.

“Your own _parents_ left you with a sixty-year-old man because they didn’t want to deal with you. Now you’re forced to work for him, receiving minimal pay, if any at all.”

Dipper couldn’t argue with the jab about Stan, but couldn’t tolerate Bill bad mouthing his parents. “Bill! I think that’s enough. They, um, I’m sure they have their own reasons for—”

“Do they?” Bill asked, though Dipper knew it was entirely rhetorical. “At the very least they could have kept you. It’s not like you have ever been much of an issue to deal with. You either stay at home and read quietly or go out and explore. It hardly seems like they would be bothered by that. They could keep you where you would be happiest, _at home_. But they didn’t. Ever wonder why that was?”

Dipper’s mouth remained tight in a line. He wasn’t sure what to say in response to that. Did he defend them? Did he agree with Bill? His gaze instinctively trailed to the floor, as he was afraid of what he would see if he looked at Bill.

“But you don’t worry about a thing, Pine Tree. Because I’m right here for you.” Bill smiled down at him, giving him a light bop on the nose with a finger. “Okay?”

All what Dipper could do was nod.

“Good. I’m glad we can agree on something. Then, just go straight in that direction.” Bill pointed the index finger of his right hand towards where the Mystery Shack supposedly was.

Dipper eyed the god from the corner of his eye, still a bit shaken from Bill’s belittlement of his entire family. That was a rather odd experience. Dipper wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to be surprised by it, or if he should have expected it, considering how Bill had always held something of a distaste for his sibling and great uncle. His friends and his parents as well, now that he thought about it.

Regardless of how bothered by it he was, DIpper found that Bill still did have a point.

He wouldn’t consider his family’s treatment of him to be poor, necessarily, but it definitely raised some eyebrows when he talked about it. 

Mabel was over-excited and over-eager to do whatever _she_ wanted, regardless of how Dipper felt about it. He frowning in anger and she wouldn’t even notice. It was annoying, because the only things she ever talked about were her friends or boys that she was infatuated with. If Dipper ever had any complaints or qualms Mabel would either ignore him or give him some half-assed advice about how to solve his problems, and then go right back to talking about her own. It made him feel like she just didn’t care at all.

And then there was Stan. Dipper knew that he wasn’t a bad person, but he couldn’t help but to feel irritation every time his Grunkle talked down to him like he was nothing more than some ant that didn’t deserve to be paid. The only thing on Stan’s mind was money. It didn’t matter if Dipper had to be destroyed in the process, if business was going well, then...

Oh God, he was starting to sound like Bill.

Dipper should not be talking about his family like this. He loved them, and they loved him, and he had no reason to doubt that. His criticisms about them were unjustified and unfair. Yet there was still a flicker of agitation that rested in his heart. They never did anything for him; barely attended to his social needs and left him all alone. Well, not completely alone.

Dipper nodded his head and looked off in the direction that Bill was pointing in. “Um… thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Though the part about his family was highly unnecessary. It wasn’t like Dipper needed to be told that Bill was probably going to have his back more often than not.

“What, no hug?” Bill asked, extending his arms in offering. Dipper blinked at him. “Come on.”

He turned around to face Bill, easily walking into his embrace and wrapping his arms around him. It was a stiff, almost awkward hug. Dipper didn’t want to say anything. Couldn’t say anything. He didn’t want the god to think that his little rant about his family had been ignored.

“Thanks,” Dipper mumbled into Bill’s chest. He stared numbly at the too-bright yellow of his vest. It looked odd in comparison to the greens and browns of their surroundings. Then again, pretty much any non-natural color would stand out.

Dipper drew back first. He felt one of Bill’s hands linger on his back, as if the god didn’t want to let go, before he had swiftly moved it to give Dipper a pat on the back.

“No problem, kid!” his arm withdrew to his side. “Safe travels!”

“Yeah, um, thanks, bye…?” when the pre-teen turned to look back at him, Bill was already gone, vanished into thin air. Soon enough the world reverted back to its usual, colorful self and everything was set back into motion. A strong breeze blew past his face and a squirrel leapt through the grass next to him.

Dipper sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment of reprieve. He knew the way home but that didn’t mean his headache had been soothed in the slightest. It still hurt. As a matter of fact, everything still hurt.

He grumbled to himself about how much he hated Bill and he swore he heard a chuckle come from behind him. Dipper didn’t bother turning around to look. He simply opened his eyes and started towards the direction where he had been informed the Shack was in. 

Regardless of his hesitance, Dipper continued on, stepping over twigs and rocks and an assortment of leaves on the ground. The cuts on his legs hadn’t completely healed yet, but Dipper had slowly built up a higher tolerance to the harsh conditions of the forest after the many days of sneaking around. 

It would take some getting used to; breaking the rules like this every single night. But he couldn’t resist. Despite his complaints, Dipper went every time Bill asked. 

He felt guilt when he looked at Mabel, because nowadays she always had this stern ‘I’m concerned about you’ face on. Dipper had pleaded with her to ignore how he kept sneaking out, but even his bright, bubbly sister had her limits. She would confront him when he returned, persistent in asking why he kept leaving. Dipper would either dodge the question or not answer at all.

The pang in his chest worsened considerably.

Minutes spent with Bill turned into hours, and hours turned into the entire night wasted laughing with the god and exploring the most unknown and desolate parts of Gravity Falls. As much as it hurt him to see his sister in such woe, his mind kept telling him it was worth it. 

His journal filled and his mind occupied with many wonders and oddities. It was all that he had ever wanted. And Bill had offered it to him on a silver platter. As much as he didn’t want to forget all of the… strange things the god had done, it was hard when he was constantly on his toes as to what their next adventure would bring.

Dipper was beginning to grow attached to Bill, as much as it pained him to say it.

Being ‘friends’, or whatever Bill would like to call it, was fine. Dipper couldn’t fathom actually caring about the god whom had shown himself entirely willing to murder innocent creatures (as innocent as a grindylow could get, of course), and do a plethora of other questionable things. Was that what being friends was all about? Caring for one another? Dipper wouldn’t know.

He stepped past another tree, gently running his hand over the bark. Just there, in the distance, was the Mystery Shack. Dipper smiled. He didn’t think he was capable of walking anymore considering the state of his body. 

He took another step forward on weary legs. A deep breath, and then he was sprinting towards his goal, rather desperate to get there as fast as he could. Mabel and Stan would probably already be waiting there ready to kill him. Might as well get the suffering over with as quickly as possible.

The Mystery Shack came closer into view, now only about a hundred yards away. Dipper slowed down his pace but kept going in his beeline towards the large gift-shop.

Then, nervousness started to kick in. If he thought he was panicking before now it was something entirely different. He could hear his heart beating, the slight shift of his breath as he processed everything. Dipper swallowed. He had been gone the entire night. What would his family say in regards to that?

Nothing good, he imagined. Mabel would cross her arms and guilt him for sneaking out so often and Stan would probably shift around awkwardly before yelling at him for being late to work. He couldn’t help but to release a bitter chuckle at that. His jaw clenched with a sour blend of anger and nerves.

The Shack stood tall in front of him, shadow looming over the trees ominously. He stayed close to the wall and skirted over to the front. The door was in his reach. Dipper stepped forward cautiously, up the stairs, reaching out a hand to grasp the doorknob.

Someone got to it before him.

Instinctively, he shied away. Mabel’s smiling face appeared in front of him. 

“Dip-Dop!” she yelled. “I’m gonna’ go hang out with Candy and Grenda! Do you wanna’ come?” 

If the confusion was clear on his face, Mabel didn’t make a comment on it. “But I, um, I…” did she not even notice he was gone, or…?

“What, cat got your tongue?” she teased. “Have you been hanging out with your girlfriend again?” the girl stepped forward, clenching her hand into a fist and playfully hitting him in the shoulder. “Spit it out! Who’s the lucky lady?”

Dipper’s indignation grew and he spluttered, trying to come up with an answer to her question. “There is no lucky lady!” he yelled. “There never has been! Look, Mabel, I—”

She snorted and giggled. “Yeah, sure, sure. You’ve just been sneaking out at night to go exploring. Alone. In the dark. That seems _totally_ true.”

“Well it is!” Dipper yelled. He wondered why she hadn’t brought up the fact that he was missing all night and morning. “I’m sorry for not being here in the morning! I, um, I fell asleep, and then just didn’t wake up until…” he trailed off.

Mabel tilted her head and looked at him strangely, as if she was the confused one. “Dipper, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, um…” he began. He bit his lip. “Well, you know how I was missing this entire morning, and all night?”

Her eyebrows furrowed in a quizzical look. “Dippin’ Dots are you feeling alright? You were here this morning, eating breakfast with us. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “What? I was? I mean—” he struggled to come up with something to say at this sudden revelation. “Yeah, of course I remember! I’ve just been a little out of it, you know?”

Mabel’s eyes narrowed, but eventually she shrugged and seemed to accept it. “Yeah, whatever. We all have those days I guess. Anyway, I’m going to the mall, so unless you want to come…”

“No,” he shook his head. “I’m fun. Have, um, have fun?”

Mabel smiled and bounded down the road leading to the town, parting ways with Dipper with a wave goodbye. 

Dipper swore under his breath when he knew that she was out of earshot. Why didn’t he expect this? Bill was exactly the kind of person who would steal his identity and then masquerade around as him.

Fists clenched, he pushed open the front door and walked into the Shack, looking around to see who was there. Wendy lazed around idly by the counter, while Soos was in the corner fixing one thing or another. Lunch break. 

“Hey Dipper,” Soos greeted, waving a hand. Wendy looked up and her eyes went wide. She glanced his body up and down and all of a sudden Dipper felt very self-conscious.

“Dude,” she began, one eyebrow raised. “You look like you’ve been to Hell.”

Dipper didn’t doubt that in the slightest. “It’s been a rough day,” he responded. He raised a hand to smooth back his hair and found a different assortment of leaves and twigs inside. Unsurprising, considering he woke up in a field. Surprising because what was Bill doing in the middle of the woods that required him to get so dirty?

“Dipper, uh, maybe you shouldn’t be running around in the forest so much. It’s fun to play with, but not to eat.” Soos suggested. Dipper sighed and shakily smiled, disregarding the nonsensicalness of the statement. 

Dipper walked over towards the back where the stairs leading to the second floor were. “What, no lunch?” Wendy asked. “Or was that what you were just doing?”

Dipper felt his stomach churn at the mention of lunch. “I’m not feeling that hungry. I’m going to sleep.”

Wendy nodded her head, but kept her line of questioning going. “So, what did you say to make Stan let you off the hook? Mabel said you got the whole day to yourself.”

Oh, just promised to work overtime for the next week and a half,” Dipper responded quickly. He wasn’t sure how he managed to come up with an excuse but he did. After all, he still had no idea what in God’s name Bill had said to Grunkle Stan. Must have been a very persuasive argument.

Wendy hummed and went back to whatever she was doing. Soos resumed tinkering with the object in his hand.

Dipper smiled at them once more, and then plodded up the stairs, feet dragging behind him.

Dipper opened the door to his and Mabel’s shared room, shuffling in with a weary sigh. His limbs ached, his body was sore, and he wanted nothing more than to fall into the comfort of sleep (thought he knew that at this point that was highly unlikely, all things considered. Bill would either take control of his body or do some other crazy thing to drive him further into madness. He felt anger simmer within his heart).

He shut the door and it closed with a thud. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror that hung lopsided from the wall he knew he looked as bad as he felt. There were twigs and leaves in his hair, dirt smudged onto his cheeks. Dipper grimaced at the sight. 

The moment his head hit the pillow the world around him turned monochrome. 

Dipper shot up, glancing around the room for any signs of the triangular (or human shaped) god. “Bill,” he growled. “I want to talk to you. Right now.”

Silence permeated through the room. Then, breaking through suddenly, a voice called out, “woah, watch it there Pine Tree. That’s a tone I’m not too fond of.” It was behind him. 

Dipper jumped and whipped around, meeting the sole eye of the god with malice. “Bill! You—you can’t just—” the words died down in his throat. There was no chance in Hell that Bill didn’t already know what he was talking about. He could imagine that sly smirk already. 

“What? Cruise around in your body? Sorry, kid, but that was all in the fineprint.” Dipper was about to retort before Bill continued, “that you didn’t look at.” 

Dipper huffed, affronted by the god’s statement. “Well, you didn’t give me a chance to look at it properly! You just shoved it in front of my face and told me to sign.”

Bill let out a considerate mumble. “True. But it was there for a total of five minutes before you actually did anything. Plenty of time to read, if you ask me.”

Dipper’s turned around once more, crossing his arms over his chest. “I hate you,” he grumbled. Bill floated towards the window and then to the front of his bed. His glowing form created an odd light that Dipper had to adjust to because of its closeness.

“And people say I have no grace! That’s awfully rude of you, Pine Tree, saying you hate me like that. I would be offended if I didn’t know that you were lying.”

“It’s not a lie!” he shouted exasperatedly. “If anything, you’re the one that has been lying to me! Every time I think that I can trust you, you go around and be… you.” Dipper waved his arms in the air, before pointing to him in accusation. “Possessing my body,” Bill hummed in acknowledgment. “Pretending to be me in front of my friends and my family. Having breakfast with them.” 

“Fair point.”

“And for what?” he continued. “You don’t even put anything useful into this journal! Just rants about pixies and gnomes and how dumb they are. For someone with supposedly infinite knowledge you sure know how to give me useless information.

Bill looked at him incredulously. “Wow, kid. The sleep deprivation must really be getting to you.” Dipper stared confused, before there was a sudden shift in scene and he felt his stomach roll.

They were in the library study now. Dipper hadn’t noticed Bill grabbing it, but the god held the journal in the air next to him, glowing blue with magic. “Um, Bill, what are we doing here?”

“You’ll see,” he responded simply. He scanned the shelves of books with his eye, seemingly looking for something. Dipper wasn’t sure whether to be frightened or not because his cryptic response didn’t reveal any inherently insidious plotting. However with Bill one could never be sure if their life was in any immediate danger. Dipper just waited patiently and hoped for the best.

A book popped out from the the shelve, and then moments later, another one. Bill turned to face him before tossing him the journal. Dipper caught it, staggering because of its weight. Sure, he was used to carrying it around but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t hard to do so.

He peered up at Bill, holding the journal awkwardly in his hands and unsure what to do with it. It opened with a flutter of pages. Instinctively Dipper drew back, looking at it wearily as it moved with a mind of its own. “Bill—” he started, but was silenced by a wave of the god’s hand.

Bill floated closer as he stepped back. “See, right…” the pages stopped their rapid motions. “Here.” A black finger landed on text that had been scrawled onto the parchment. It was not his handwriting. In fact, he didn’t remember ever seeing it before. 

If he looked confused Bill didn’t mention it, only tapping the lettering twice and resuming. “Not any language you’re familiar with?” upon further inspection, no, that was indeed not English. Dipper shook his head. “Exactly, Pine Tree.”

One of the books floated over and opened. Bill motioned back and forth between the two of them. “Notice any similarities? Of course you do!” he did. The language in his journal was the same as the one in the books.

“A cipher?” Dipper asked. Next to the writing in the unknown language were letters of the English alphabet. A translation page. Why hadn’t he taken note of this before?

“Yes. As you can see, I’ve been quite busy, Pine Tree.” Bill let out a grating laugh. “And that’s not the only page. There’s plenty of others that you’ve missed. Oh, man. Maybe I really should lay off on the possession! It seems like your mind has been getting slower. But not slow enough to not suspect me, apparently.”

Dipper blushed from the needling embarrassment that had begun to work its way into him. So he just wrongly accused his best friend at the moment. Great.

“Sorry!” he apologized, voice cracking. “But that still doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for parading around as me.”

“Well I had to cover for you somehow, didn’t I?” Bill countered. “If I just left all night and didn’t show your face then your family really would think you were missing. Which would be a huge loss for both me, and you.”

“Okay, but…” Dipper placed a hand on his forehead. “Can you just tell me next time? Dude, you’re getting me all worked up over nothing. And it’s hard to cope especially considering that literally this has all happened in under one week.”

“I understand, Pine Tree. It can be a lot to take in. But think of the rewards! All this knowledge at your fingertips. Don’t you want it all? Because you can have it.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve more shady deals,” Dipper quipped. 

Bill chuckled lowly. “Of course not. That was only because I forgot to add some stuff in the original contract.”

Dipper felt his eyebrow raise of its own accord. “I’m 99% sure that was because you didn’t want to scare me when we originally made the deal. Going from ‘I’ll give you information’ to ‘I’ll possess your body while you sleep and give you information’ is one big step.” He glanced down at the journal in his hands. “One big step that I would probably be unwilling to take.”

“Probably.” Bill agreed. 

One of the books that Bill had been holding floated over to him and he knew that it was a signal for him to take it. Dipper grabbed it, of course, but frowned. “So far, we’ve only been hanging out here in my dreams. Which is nice, but…”

“When will you get to be in here in real life?” Bill offered. Dipper nodded, placing the book down on the nearby study desk. 

“Soon. Soon, I promise.” The god finished.

“Really?” Dipper asked. He didn’t want to offend Bill by being disbelieving of him, but at the same time he wanted some sort of confirmation.

“Pinky promise,” Bill said cheekily. Dipper couldn’t help to smile as he extended a pinky. Bill’s own little finger wrapped around his and they shook up and down; it was a promise. 

“Good,” Dipper gave a curt nod. “I’ll be angry if you violate that.”

“Kid, you’ll be angry no matter what I do,” Bill quipped. If it were any other day Dipper might have come up with a sly retort to shoot back at him but he couldn’t be bothered. He just rolled his eyes and went back to staring at his journal.

He blinked up at the ceiling.

The world had returned to its colorful state, and with a groan Dipper sat up, limbs protesting with pain. He was awake. And it didn’t seem like that rest had done him much good, considering that he hurt worse now than before. On the plus side it didn’t seem like Bill had gone around in his body since he was in the same position that he had been in when he fell into his slumber.

He looked around the room, bringing up a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes. Mabel wasn’t there, which meant that she was either downstairs, or she was still hanging out with her friends. He glanced at the alarm clock resting on the bedside table. It had been about thirty minutes in total. Which meant there was still another thirty minutes to go before lunch break ended. Idly, he wondered what Bill had said to convince Grunkle Stan to let him off the hook for the day.

He shifted his body and hopped off of the bed. His legs shook from the effort it took. It felt like he run a marathon, and to be honest there was the possibility that he had considering he had no idea what Bill could be doing with his body while he was asleep.

Dipper took a step forward. And then another. He rubbed at his eyes again and then reached for the doorknob. His hand rested there for a brief moment, as he weighed the pros and cons of actually leaving the room.

Sleep was tempting. Sleep was _really_ tempting. It hurt just thinking about having to do anything.

But the realization struck him that Stan had let him (technically Bill) off of work for the day. This would likely be the only day of the week where he could freely do as he wished. There was the library, the park, all of Gravity Falls at his disposal. Better that he left now instead of potentially facing Grunkle Stan and having the older man change his mind about his freedom.

So he opened the door. 

It was a real effort to get down the stairs, and it was even harder of an effort to explain to Wendy and Soos where he was going, because truth be told he didn’t know. There was no plan in walking out of the Shack, nor was there a plan when he walked out into the woods. He just knew that he had to. 

It was a bad idea; in the real world Bill held no dominion and couldn’t prevent anything from attacking him. It would be Dipper and his survival skills alone.

But still, the forest beckoned him, and Dipper found himself following its call.

The pre-teen carefully stepped over the line which marked the forest boundary. Almost instantly he could feel Bill’s presence in the back of his mind, prodding him forward. Dipper acquiesced. 

The trees were tall around him, pine trees, of course; their large shapes cast shadows over the landscape, and Dipper not for the first time found himself afraid of the overwhelming presence. He was glad it was day time.

There was a rustling from the bush beside him. Leaves fluttered to the ground and Dipper could only turn around to face his latest intruder.

A wolf (more like beast, from his first encounter with them) growled, and stalked out from the shrubbage, looking at Dipper hungrily. It licked its lips, sharp canines on full display.

On instinct Dipper backed away from the predator, eyes turning into saucers as memories of a moonlight night returned to the forefront of his mind.

_He darted through the forest, backpack now long forgotten back at the oak tree he had used as a resting spot. In one hand, he was carrying a flashlight, trying his best to make it illuminate his pathway; in the other hand was his journal, feeling heavier than usual and seeming to exhaust him more with every hurried step away from his pursuers._

Those, those _things_ that had chased him, that had cast such fear in his heart. He had imagined that they were wolves, but now, in the daylight, they seemed to be so much more than that. Dipper’s vision went blurry for a moment as he teetered on the line between consciousness and unconsciousness. Not now. He couldn’t handle a chase now of all times.

_Dipper ran, the creatures followed. He tripped over a protruding root, and they gained on him. Soon enough, fatigue creeped into his veins and caused desperate gasps of breath to leave his lips. A sense of dread filled him to his very core. He wanted to stop, but that met his inevitable death. There was not a doubt in his mind that he would be killed and devoured by the things chasing after him._

But the beast in front of him did not pounce on him. It did not move a muscle as it stared at him, blankly. Dipper was unsure what it was trying to convey. Unease made his gaze dart from side to side, but he quickly met it stare again. He didn’t want to take his eyes off of the creature.

He considered running, but the thought was gone almost as quickly as it came; that would serve no purpose other than to agitate it; it was a faster runner than he, after all. And agitating what could quite possibly be the face of Death was not a good idea (though Dipper supposed that at this point he had long since killed his sense of reasoning).

Brown met bright yellow and all of a sudden Dipper was acutely aware of the color of those eyes. 

Familiar. He recalled a grinning face with sharp teeth and blonde hair and eyes that were—

“Bill?” the question spilled forth from his lips before he could stop it. A deeper, more self-loathing part of himself said that it was stupid to even consider the possibility that whatever this thing was was Bill Cipher. Or, Dipper didn’t know, was being possessed by Bill Cipher?

The wolf (he settled on calling it that) growled low in his throat and Dipper was about to take that as a no before its lips curled and its fangs drew back in what could only be considered a smile. 

Dipper was unsure whether to take that as a yes or a no. He stilled, not running, but made no move to draw closer. By now it wasn’t attacking which must have been a good sign.

Then, it began to trot over. Dipper immediately let out a shriek and backed away until he met the tree behind him. One of his hands instinctively moved to cover his front, and he reached out, hoping to at least ward the thing off.

“Oh, um, oh God…” he gulped. He tried to steel himself in preparation for any oncoming pain. The wolf had the potential to do plenty of very nasty things to him, and he would prefer that it didn’t sink its teeth into the meat of his thigh. And also prefered that it didn’t make any attempts to eat him. That too.

It got uncomfortably close to his hand and Dipper considered pulling it away before it gently bumped the top of its head to his palm. 

Okay, this was approaching some very strange and uncharted territories.

“Bill?” he asked, once more. It looked up at him, before blinking its eyes slowly. What did that mean? “Uh, Bill?” Dipper tried again.

The wolf yipped and he jumped about a foot in the air, not expecting the sudden and harsh sound. He decided to take that as a hesitant yes. 

“Uh…” he was unsure where to even begin. Maybe this was all a coincidence, and this was simply one way-too-friendly wolf? Or this was actually Bill and not a joke. Was there even an in-between option? 

It moved away from him, and Dipper clutched his hand to his chest, looking at it warily. A few feet away it stopped dead in its tracks. Then, it turned its head slowly to meet his gaze. Dipper blinked. It made a motion as if to imply that he should follow. Very hesitantly, he moved forward.

It didn’t try to attack him. He kept moving.

The wolf led him away from the clearing of trees he was in. Dipper, albeit shaking like a leaf, followed. This definitely ranked within his top ten most stupid ideas. 

Firstly, he didn’t know if this thing was actually Bill or not (it sounded more and more stupid every time he said it in his head). Secondly, even if it _was_ Bill it still had the potential to rip his arm off. Thirdly, he was so tired he could collapse.

But he kept walking.

Dipper stepped over a twig, and then darted through a pile of leaves. He worked his way around thick foliage and despite the fact that he was a few seconds from passing out he was resolute in seeing where the creature was taking him.

“Bill?” he asked again. The wolf didn’t pause in its leisurely walk throughout the forest. “Bill, I swear if this is you this is one of the worst pranks you have ever pulled.” It growled at him and Dipper shut up immediately.

Their casual (if it could be called that) stroll continued on for what seemed to be hours before they finally came to what apparently was the wolf’s target location.

A sense of familiarity welled inside of him.

It was the same place in his dreams, the place that Bill had taken him, the place he had woken up in to find a dead grindylow, frightened and confused. A crystal clear lake surrounded by tall pine trees, shadows casting a dark curtain over the landscape. “This is…” he began. His gaze wandered to the spot where he knew, suspected, more like, the door leading to the study to be.

Bill _had _said that he would show him how to get there soon.__

__Dipper walked over and crouched down by the waterside, dragging a hand through the water to test the temperature. Lukewarm. Odd for a place that was surrounding by such large trees, sunlight barely able to enter save for the few cracks between the branches and leaves._ _

__There it was—the door. Resting just underneath the currents of water. He knew what lay underneath it, knew every inch of that room. Over the last week he would say he had been there more than he had been in the Shack (even if it was only in his dreams)._ _

__He glanced over to the wolf. It merely stood there looking over the terrain. Dipper followed its gaze to an small area covered in tiny rocks, bathed in what little sunlight was able to filter in. However, one rock stood out among the others: large, red, and seemingly important from the way the wolf (Bill. He would just call it Bill now) stared intently at it._ _

__“What is that?” he asked, lifting a finger to point at it. Bill barely payed him mind. Dipper frowned. Instead, the god walked briskly over towards the rock, before placing a paw on it._ _

__A great groaning noise came from the ground underneath his feet, and Dipper jumped back in surprise. Slowly, methodically, the waves parted, rolling over to the sandy coastline and staying put._ _

__Bill went circled around and came over to where Dipper was standing. He backed up but watched to see what he would do._ _

__Bill sat down in the sand, next to the trapdoor. He looked at Dipper expectantly._ _

__The pre-teen made his way over, feet sinking into the sand. It made a mess of his shoes, since the water was seeping into his socks, but he could ignore that. He had plenty of other clothes back at home._ _

__Bill gestured towards the door handle using his snout, and Dipper reached out with a shaky hand to grab it. Once again he felt that same sense of dread. The last time he was here in person hadn’t been that pleasant of an experience and he had no desire to repeat that experience._ _

__Dipper glanced from side to side, looking at the large mounds of water warily. Again he felt as though they might collapse on top of them at any moment._ _

__Pushing the thought from his head, he opened the hatch and sat down, legs falling into the open hole. He looked down, peering at the ladder. Quickly he put his feet on one of the top rungs and turned his body around, finding himself face-to-face with Bill. He looked away almost immediately, unable to keep his gaze locked onto those yellow orbs for long._ _

__“Thank you,” he whispered. Bill smiled again, fangs flashing. He let out a snort and promptly turned on his heel. Before Dipper could so much as blink he was gone._ _

__Dipper slipped inside and closed the hatch above him. He heard water splash against the wood of the door._ _

__At least he had a way in now._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Boring. I know. I apologize but I couldn't figure out any ways to spice this up. Forgive me please.
> 
> Unfortunately I'll have to inform you that I need to take a break. Not a long one, don't worry. Only a month. Chapter 4 will be released on April 1st instead of March 1st as was initially planned (and things will start to get interesting; don't worry!). And I promise you that it will have 12,000 words to make up for this chapter.
> 
> Why I need the break? Well, there are a lot of reasons. 
> 
> This fic has drained me emotionally and psychically. The last week has been stressful since 90% of this was written within the such a short time span. Of all the chapters I was looking forward to writing this one the least because I didn't have much planned. I've stayed up until early hours in the morning and have dealt with some personal issues so forcing myself to write didn't help much. So for the sake of my mental health and a better quality chapter for next time, I need this. Thank you for understanding.
> 
> I'll see you in two months! :)


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